walking the line

There are nights I go out in New York City and I feel as if I erroneously walk into a movie set. At one moment I am on a street corner that resembles real life and a moment later, I’ve turned that corner into “21 grams” or “fight club.” Everything seems desolate and somber, yet mysterious and fascinating.

The other night was one of those nights.

There was an independent art show in a remote area of Greenpoint where not even our taxi driver had been before so much that we had to tell him where to stop. And, as soon as we got off the car, we turn to look at some shoes hanging by a tread running along two light poles *(if you know what I mean!)

The moon light was filtering through the darker sky and the orange light bulbs on the street light were like candle lights alternating along the alley giving the whole place the perfect set-up for a night photo scene. A little subway smoke and some sporadic gusts of wind and it would have been even more perfect!

The infinite void at the end of the street and the silence all the way around felt equally scary and exciting. So, after the art show was over, I kept on walking down the street when, all of a sudden, the shadow of a pedestrian on the side walk reflecting off a wall both scared me and intrigued me to the point I probably would have followed it along.

But, yet again, once I turned the next street corner, the gang smoking pot at the bit of rap coming out from the stereo of a parked lexus, had me re-think the why it was not a good idea to wonder desolate street sides on my own at 1am?

That’s when I knew, I may have gotten too far along and it was time to turn around and re-tract my steps even if all those photos would make such wonderful material.

So, I got into a bar and ordered a beer. The night was far from over.

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