Headed back from NYC on a bus packed bottom to brim. I sit at the back, over the axel, no protection from the jolts and bumps. Iron & Wine on the ipod. There is a yellow gerber daisy at my feet. Beside me, a sleeping German girl with fantastic glasses and a terrible new tattoo, just beginning to scar on the back of her neck. A couple speak sign language across the aisle. I nap when the three cups of green tea wear off. I interspersed my interviews with caffeine today. The boiling water felt like meditation. Then came the rush. I ate chickpea and sesame soup for lunch. I shared a milkshake in a diner and beat the Sunday Times crossword into near-submission. (It took three days. Haters don't hate.)
The trip was not easy. I won't lie. There were disappointments, many, and I've never been good at the display that is necessary when interviewing. What happened to just looking someone in the eye? But amidst all of the stress, there was a moment in my dear friend's apartment, as she discussed puppetry and music and the language of gesture, when I looked out her window on the sun slowly going down over the river and saw the whole city spread out before me, and I thought - yes. There is space enough here.
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