I collect images of people the way others snap photos of flowers while walking down the street, but these portraits only live in my mind.
In New York City, springtime transforms people-watching into an Olympic sport. Coats are stripped off, millennial black and gray fade away as GenZ neon bursting ripeness takes center stage. My eyes feast on stories unfolding and tectonic reverberations pulse through the world, framed only by the music playing through my headphones.
The sadness of the winter is beginning to lift and I'm relearning how to let the energy flow through me, with that masterful conductor, NYC, recharging my spirit with its currents. My titular saint, Walt Whitman, is by my side. (Maybe you think this is an exaggeration, but I tell you, he always is.)
This week, when the rain stopped long enough for the sun to come out for a day, and leftover drops scented the air with petrichor, I watched with wonder as a parade of lovely humans reminded me what it is to live and love in this city. Yes, I cherish the nature of upstate and swoon at the antics of wildlife, but the wilderness of these complicated, tough streets lights me up. Still.
In that vein, I share with you a short note, documenting some of what I saw one afternoon this past week. No photos. I just ask you to breathe it in and channel their yang energy as you step into this coming week.
Punk young girl wearing garter belt and lace panty shorts, white tank top and Yankees baseball cap. ~ L train
Zaftig woman wearing jorts so short and tight you could see a clear outline of her vulva. ~ A train
Man with head shaved like a monk (no hair on top, only “halo” of hair around bottom of his head) wearing a long lace skirt, Docs and a corset. ~ L train
Woman my age with bleach blonde hair, short paisley babydoll dress with spaghetti straps and a shawl hanging off her shoulders. Metallic pink tote bag and Barbie pink 1970s “Charlie” sandals. Reached under her bum to adjust skirt that rode up her thighs, before she got off at her stop. ~ A train
Old man on a small bicycle riding east on 14th and Third Ave wearing what appeared to be nothing but a bright yellow rain poncho. The wind had blown it up like a balloon. ~ The street.
GIVE ME THE SPLENDID SILENT SUN Walt Whitman Keep your splendid silent sun, Keep your woods O Nature, and the quiet places by the woods, Keep your fields of clover and timothy, and your corn-fields and orchards, Keep the blossoming buckwheat fields where the Ninth-month bees hum; Give me faces and streets—give me these phantoms incessant and endless along the trottoirs! Give me interminable eyes—give me women—give me comrades and lovers by the thousand! Let me see new ones every day—let me hold new ones by the hand every day! Give me such shows—give me the streets of Manhattan! Give me Broadway, with the soldiers marching—give me the sound of the trumpets and drums! (The soldiers in companies or regiments—some starting away, flush’d and reckless, Some, their time up, returning with thinn’d ranks, young, yet very old, worn, marching, noticing nothing;) Give me the shores and wharves heavy-fringed with black ships! O such for me! O an intense life, full to repletion and varied! The life of the theatre, bar-room, huge hotel, for me! The saloon of the steamer! the crowded excursion for me! the torchlight procession! The dense brigade bound for the war, with high piled military wagons following; People, endless, streaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants, Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now, The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded,) Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
PS See Sinners. It’s NOT a horror film (OK, it is, but it isn’t) and I need to DISCUSS.
These two below images are related.
I love these bold choice-makers, including you
Thank you for those colorful images - I could totally see them and were captivated. 💜