That sentence just needs to stands by itself. There's so much to see here and so much to experience. I have no idea how I'm going to fit this city into the short seven days that I will be here, but I am so dazed in love with this city and its inhabitants.
I was sitting in Washington Square Park last night, taking care of some thoughts that needed to be organized, and I'm still in a high from what I experienced. Everything was just so perfect.
adf
The night was dark, but lit up with the glowing lamps circled around the park. I sat down at a bench and thought about how we can't take the time to experience something without losing the time to make different memories elsewhere. NYU students were talking about meaningless things to my right. In the distance, past the fountain, street vendors were trying to lure in children with small glowing lights thrown into the air. Slightly ahead of me, street musicians, possibly some homeless people, and just regular people were making and sharing music with each other. There were about ten bodies, two guitars, one ukulele, and so much love. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. They were stamping their feet, clapping their hands, teaching each other lyrics and rifts; I wanted so badly to go and join them, but I didn't have the guts. I just enjoyed their love and passion from a distance. I marveled at how these people, who clearly looked as though they were having a rough time getting by, were leaving their fears behind and taking time to enjoy the beautiful, never ending party that life is.
asd
I sat tapping my feet along with the strum of the strings, and in the darkness, a scruffy voice appeared. It said, "They are the most uncoordinated musicians that I have ever heard." The voice, accented, came from an elderly man with white hair and a rather full stomach; I could distinguish his facial features through the dim lights. I turned to him, smiled, and said, "But they're having a good time." He agreed and we had a casual conversation about how he was a retired restaurant owner who came to the park every night to hear music. I listened and engaged in light conversation, but really, I was distracted with the musicians up ahead. I wanted to go up to them and ask them to play "Twist and Shout" by The Beatles. I talked to the man about how I wanted to study to make films, maybe write some scripts first. I checked the time on my phone and saw that I had to get back to my friend. I wanted to sit in the park until the last person left, but I knew I had to leave and that no moment lasts forever. Unwillingly, I pulled myself up from the warm concrete bench and bid my friend in the dark goodbye, I shook his hand and left the park and the beautiful hearts and stories in it behind me. I ran across the tiny, cracked street back into air-conditioned rooms.
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