There is Magic to be Had in New York
At 6:00 pm today, I was standing at the corner of Madison Avenue and 51st St. when the most beautiful church bells I have ever heard began to peal out a haunting song. Six o'clock is the height of rush hour in New York City, and so there were a million cars and people rushing by me, honking and yelling and and weaving between one another in a frenzied quest for home. Nobody seemed to notice the bells, but I did. How could I not? Like I said, they were the most beautiful church bells I've ever heard. They echoed up past the tops of the skyscrapers and into the twilight, carrying with them the more jarring sounds of taxi horns and ambulance sirens. I stood there at the corner and I just started to cry. It just struck me as incredible that something as glorious as that five minutes of music could exist in such a tough, grimy place. It was one of those moments where I had to just stand there in awe and look at the world, and see the splendour in its hideousness.
It's in the hope of having moments like these that I get out of bed in the morning.
It's in the hope of having moments like these that I get out of bed in the morning.