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Glass Fairytale

My Travel Writing Scholarship 2011 entry - Journey in an Unknown Culture

WORLDWIDE | Monday, 28 March 2011 | Views [148] | Scholarship Entry

We flew over the ocean at a speed that resembles the one that sound reaches, especially when it travels like now - mumbling smuggled in the depth of my ears. JFK opens its doors for me and with each new place I go, I wonder if actually I am the one opening the doors to it.

We are conquering New York from the underground. That is actually the part of America that interests me the most. The subway takes us to the corner of 42nd Street and 8th Avenue. Loaded with bags we get to the top of the stairs and the view pushes us to climb even higher. The New World, that man got as a second chance to create with knowledge based on mistakes made until, lays in front of us, above us, like a shelter - it's everywhere!

Again, there is that sound. What is known as silence seems to vibrate differently in this part of the planet. It is night still but the colors offer more contrast than my naked eyes are accustomed to. We choose to wait for the sun. I feel comfortable sitting among the trashcans by the stoops of 44th Street. I imagine the life that has brought the ingredients of those black bins to the current position. It must be a fulfilled one!

My first steps through the city acquaint me with geometry. Taught by centuries-old building experience, man has put into place a seemingly unimaginative plan here. Every street intersects with another at a right angle. It always sounded so boring to me. My first NYC corner - 90 degrees. I turn my view towards the left. I look, I look, then I manage to break away and I turn my head right. I see something I can never see in my city – the horizon. Red trails of the morning sun reflect in the sky-scraping glass that is all around me. I never thought that in these towers I would find traces of a fairytale. As if human imagination is still busy creating appropriate residence for a beautiful "princess". Does this mean that the knights are fighting somewhere too?

A few steps away a small tobacco shop layered in dust seems to have been engraved by a needle turning at 45 rpm. It makes me hear in my mind’s ear, the worn but still fresh sounds of soul music and the blues.
Walking further I feel as if someone is actually making a joke with us. I’ve already seen all this! I can't resist the impression that we are actually walking through the model of the city. I no longer know which is which. Is it New York City that produced the film or did the film create this city? All in all, I have been here before! At the same time, it seems that 'here' is actually unreachable. It exists only in the light of the film. Somehow, I now exist in it too.

Tags: #2011Writing, Travel Writing Scholarship 2011

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