so part of my daily commute is to pass over the snake hill bridge which gives me an excellent view of the NYC skyline, perhaps one of the most famous in the world I suppose, but when it is exposed out your window daily, the luster tends to wear off, I suppose the same can be said if you woke up in a Cairo high-rise and there are those silly triangles again, seems impossible but there is a truth worming around in there, in our nature, human nature, this morning though, the way the sky was, the way the clouds were stacked, nearly drawn, like a Bob Ross painting, happy little clouds perched perfectly in stacks that defied my ability for proper perception, for they ran nearly as far back and then met with the large fingers of the NYC skyline, so skyscrapers actually met, and touched the sky, there was interaction there in the outline, from the billowing white grey mass there were cracks, windows, doorways, and light was pouring through in direct beams as if directed by an unseen artist’s hand, like each cloud was trying to contain their own sun, like grabbing a light bulb with your palm, light does escape, just enough to highlight or even create the shadows that gave all this depth, when in the dense jungle that is the streets of NY, the massive buildings lose some majesty, just abother block, just another façade of windows and stone so many stories fold on fold, but from this distance the word skyscraper really feels at home, for the buildings literally rise up into the horizon, like mist covered mountains, rising from the ground up into the sky, seems almost impossible, not just a postcard, a backdrop of our human will to stand tall, and our arrogance to think this will last… but at least for now, our hand has touched the sky as one.
Shades of My Garden 