New York in Autumn is a creature with pulsating arteries, sprinting through its own existence.
Meanwhile I moved like a newly-installed operating system booting in Safe Mode.
Every step required triage:
the nausea, the vertigo, the tidal waves of exhaustion that would have made sense if I were finishing a residency rotation — not just walking to Duane Reade to buy saltines and ginger ale.
This city shouts; my brain whispers.
(There is something very wrong if I’m not the loudest thing in a place…It’s. Just. Wrong.)
The dissonance is astronomical.
UnderTheRock Diaries 