riverside (northward)

4.78 miles

here are the sights of today’s perfect, slightly exhilarating, goldenorangeypinkindigo skies walk: couples dancing to live music by general grant’s memorial; a man asking to pet someone’s fluffy dog; a salsa (?) zumba (?) class in the park; children scootering; a lot of dog poop; a woman packing laundry hampers into a car; saggy pants but tight; lovers, one’s hand on the other’s shoulder, whose hand in turn rested on the other’s hip; a child in an overall pinafore dress; conversation and music en español (a sound, not a sight); a white and black couple, a black and white couple, children (i again hesitate to mention race and yet i cannot not, i apologize— it is affecting); highway overunderinbetween passes; a graveyard on a hill; a drunk man, or perhaps an injured man; japanese chinese dominican russian restaurants… a line outside of domino’s; hair salons and beauty stores; a rather unstylish man wearing a fake chanel mask; a couple strolling into st.a’s; mcdonald’s.

a matriarch watching the sun disappear into the river, sitting in a lawn chair, surrounded by signs, ‘mother, grandmother’, few people walking by— a lone one-woman protest for black lives, for her sons, grandsons, family.

shall we talk about jane jacobs today? i admit i never finished her book, but i do think of her often. riverside crosses two sorta bridges as one walks north, and later zigs and zags underneath highway ramps and fast streets. i followed riverside as best as i could, yet i kept ending up on the wrong side of the road, the sidewalk dissipating into gravel, at one point into what can only be described as a trail. at multiple points i had to ran across traffic.. ish.

i haven’t walked this late into the night yet. it was a bit of an impulsive decision, but the sky never went completely dark. nevertheless, my adrenaline levels pumped higher than usual. deep blue skies, trash on the sidewalk, bright lights, graffiti… but most of all, stretches where i could not see another soul on the sidewalk (cars rushing by), when the fear creeps in just slightly.

that’s jane jacobs— what makes a city safe is ‘the eyes upon the street’. it is more dangerous to be alone than to be surrounded by strangers. yes, there might be one crazy person, but it is unlikely that every single person on the street will turn against you. someone will help you out.

but when there is no one but you … and the crazy person…

stretches of empty sidewalk, then a lone man walking towards me, then realizing he is watching a sports game on his phone. my headphones are in but the music is low so i can attend to my surroundings. i am jealous of this man’s nonchalance. more empty sidewalk, then i see a mother and her child. i feel silly for the heightened beat of my heart.

(ignore the straight line down… forgot to turn off tracking… i took the subway)

today concludes all of riverside drive, although i have yet to make it to the top of the island, as riverside ends at 181st st. above washington heights lies the little dominican republic. i passed by a restaurant selling mofongo and dearly wanted to step in, having heard of its deliciousness… but alas, i was still very full from dinner; it will have to wait until the next time i venture up here.

i am sleepy, a little stiff and a little relaxed. i will finally rest on a real bed tonight (don’t ask). i am grateful for the minute human interactions today: for the woman who picked up a clothes rack from our apartment and invited me to come by the free donations-based store she was helping to organize for those staying in a nearby church; for the musicians in the park making art and making joy; for each young child who stumbles in front of me and looks up, wide-eyed.

these words from my favorite lil blog (600 acres by posie brien) strike me today:

Even when I’m narrowing the scope of my days to the living room / the nursery / the pile of unfolded laundry / the two-minute walk to the marina to see the big yachts / the impossibly soft skin under the baby’s chin, I still consume information somehow. It filters into my life like sunlight through a curtain—even when closed, some gets in. I bump into neighbors who chat about The World, I overhear snatches of conversation about The World from Zoom calls behind the closed office door, I call friends and they bring up The World.

The World makes me want to break down and laugh and weep and scream all at once, even when i try not to think about The World. each conversation, phone call, text exchange with a friend is uplifting— yet we end up in the same place. a sigh. an empty stare. an unknowing and a knowing,

perhaps an acknowledgment that this world is not the world that was meant to be,

that somehow, there must be something more,

i hope.