28th st / 24th st

3.56 miles

i am running into a new year
and the old years blow back
like a wind that i catch in my hair
like strong fingers like
all my old promises and
it will be hard to let go

of what i said to myself
about myself
when i was sixteen and
twentysix and thirtysix
even thirtysix but
i am running into a new year
and i beg what i love and
i leave to forgive me
—Lucille Clifton

a short walk to end my recess and to begin the new year. short because it was my first time outside since arriving back and quarantining in new york, and because of a most magical experience at the old print shop on lexington and 30th that delayed my start. i spoke two entries ago of printed matter, a delight of vibrant art books and hipsters. the old print shop excited me the same, but it is its own glorious beast. Founded in 1898, the vast space was devoid of customers, filled with off-white prints and falling-apart books from floor to ceiling, and operated by a half-dozen venerable print enthusiasts. i wandered around the store, feeling watched as i fingered through the ‘flip books’ of prints… that were far out of my price range. vintage prints, and upstairs, more contemporary pieces. black and white, colorful woodcut prints, minimal line drawings— i peacefully meandered and vowed to come back when i no longer had a student budget. one kind lady pointed me in the direction of some vintage collectibles, and i picked up a set of niagara falls postcards and a flattened antique flour bag. i told her i was a student studying chemistry and found out that her son was studying nickel catalysis. i left the store after close to an hour wandering and listening, feeling peaceful.

i had come down this way to visit the print shop as well as to dine in ‘curry hill’, a small area centered around lexington and 30th so named for its plethora of indian restaurants and shops. i chose pippali and was very satisfied by their lunch special. a blessing and a curse of this journey (dramatic) is that it is hard for me to go anywhere in the city without trying to fit in a walk, thus my limited meandering today even as the sky quickly darkened.

i love being outside in the city in the minutes before the sun begins to set. i love how the deep golden light reflects off the skyscrapers and illuminates smoke before fading into twilight. the brilliant blue sky that is struck with, in today’s case, hot pink. a slowness and a gratitude.

the sights of today: a man jumping rope, i imagine, on the street outside of his apartment building; multiple so-called international stores, indian, chinese; two men in full army uniform, someone walking with a stereo with colorful rings of light, letting out a hoot as he crossed the street; the plant district on 28th between sixth and seventh; a garbage woman; the fashion institute of technology (ugly building); a stretch of art galleries i had never passed before on 24th between tenth and eleventh; a woman picking up a cigarette off the street.

i entered one of the art galleries, the photography of gordon parks. striking, timely— but it is always timely.

i am not often an audiobook listener but today i spent my stroll accompanied by barack obama reading his memoir to me. the words were strangely relatable. “i got lost in my head” “what great contest was i preparing for?” “it was okay to doubt, to question, and still reach beyond for something beyond the here and now”. i listened attentively, in my own head as i rode the subway back home.