And I've got a song to sing

We went on a walk about New York today. Here are three images that stood out to me that I encountered on the walk:

(1) A couple, sitting on a bench outside the Metropolitan Museum of Art, holding hands. But they were not kissing, nor were they staring lovingly at each-other's faces. They were both staring out, forwards, their eyes both focused on something out there, in the world. And you could tell that they were both seeing the same thing, sharing their vision, that's how close they were. And I thought, excuse my inexperience, but that I thought, now that was real intimacy. More so than sitting there, making out on the park bench in front of everyone. (which, by the way if you don't live here, is a very normal thing in NY. You see, oh, I don't know, about 1 couple every few benches making out if you're walking in the park or even just some place with benches. Or one per car on the subways.) And so, maybe I was overdramatizing, but that resonated with me, that idea of stronger bonds through what you were seeing, for that you felt as well.

(2)A tree, standing (or sitting, whichever) in it's little square of dirt on one of the many streets I walked down, encompassed by a fence. Those fences are probably there to keep kids and dogs out, but this tree, this tree must have thought that fence was a personal insult, that it was trying to keep it from getting out. So guess what that tree had done? It had swallowed that fence whole, just grown over it, until there were only a few black bars showing, just the tips of each fence post poking out from bark. As if to say, You think you can keep nature from doing what it wants? Hah! Just try! And it made me laugh inside, this tree getting its victory, eating up that fence, showing that it could be free, even if people think the only thing trees can do is stand around and grow. Trees, like all other things, can have victory!

(3) An old store, on the second floor of a building, advertising itself to be a fixer of clocks. And a fixer it was. Through the windows, you could see enormous clock faces, just sitting up there, gathering dust. The old kind of clock, with the big yellowing face and the embellished black numbers. and the really interesting bit was, some of the clocks didn't have hands anymore. They were being repaired, still. And it was interesting, because those clocks, they still had time, but they could no longer tell it. For them, they held all the time, they watched as it alternately sped or crawled by, but though they watched, though it was moving for them, whoever looked at them could see nothing. Time was unmoving on those clocks for them. Not only was it unmoving, it just wasn't there. It wasn't even wrongly told, it just wasn't told at all, for there were no hands to point the way. And I thought, what a sad fate for a clock to end in.

L

Title Quote: If I had a Hammer, Pete Seeger

Photo Credits: The first and last are from an unidentified source from flickr, the middle one (tree) is by kbda.com, (Kim Baer Design Company) by Kim's friend, Keith.