The commotion of our daily lives does not allow time for reflection. Take the view from our apartment. When we first moved in, nothing could have been more impressive. There's New Jersey! Walk to your left a few steps, and then it becomes Hey! There's Brooklyn! And then the realization of, Hey! We live here!
But soon the novelty soon faded. We were out and about, complaining about our internships, worrying about buying food, seeing a Broadway production, and hopping from bar to bar.
Well, almost two months have passed. The money for such luxuries as bar hopping and Broadway plays has run out. We are eating cups of Ramen and then recycling the cups to drink tap water. Toilet paper is scrounged from friends in local universities. Bathrooms gradually darken as the light bulbs within sizzle off from prolonged use. After weeks of patient waiting, we are realizing that the nice janitor from our dorm back at Hamilton will not clean up after us.
Only now can we fully appreciate the view from our apartment. The distant Statue of Liberty is surrounded by the contrasting rippled and smoothed waters of the harbor. The Staten Island ferry steams back and forth, surrounded by skittering and darting water taxis. Here and there, the occasional yacht or brave windsurfer sails by. The island with no name lies between Brooklyn and us - does anyone live there? We wonder. The brilliance of the daytime fades to the view of the night. Orange streetlights contrast with blinking lights of ferries and airplanes and the blue lights that trace the graceful lines of the bridge. From here, it appears to have sails. The waters are black and just a little foreboding.
I close my eyes to examine the mental picture. I hope I don't forget this anytime soon.
