At the right place, the right time

At 10 a.m. precisely, the Chrysler’s famous spear is perfectly aligned with the corner of the MetLife Building.

At 1 p.m. the shadows recede and The Glory of Commerce, shines through. We are outside Grand Central Terminal on 42nd Street, walking past a masterpiece: the Tiffany glass clock surrounded by a sculptural group by Jules-Félix Coutan, representing Minerva, Hercules and Mercury – or to us Greeks, Athena, Hercules and Hermes.

Midtown, Manhattan

November 29th, 2017

Time.Travel.Dream.

Ten past nine. Time doesn’t matter. What matters is I lost you. You hugged me and drifted away in the shadows. You said it’s ok. You said you’d be back by nine. I tried to call you but I couldn’t remember your number. Your number. The one I called thousands – countless times year upon year upon year. I pushed the memory button but that didn’t work either. Anxiety turning to desperation. I start to panic but I try to focus. I start again, digit after digit after digit. Together they look familiar, perhaps I’m getting somewhere. Yet somehow I find it impossible to dial your number to the end. Either I loose track or the screen gets blurry – finally the battery goes dead. Best I can do is wait under the clock. Or wake up.

A recurrent dream.

October 7th, 2016