Last night, I watched the sun set over the Manhattan skyline and heard Genevieve Valentine and Kate Bernheimer read their own takes on fairly tales. The occasion was a Books Beneath the Bridge event sponsored by WORD, and it was the first time I’d been to a literary event there since, well, last summer.
Stating the obvious? It’s a hell of a place to watch someone read. The event kicked off a little after 7. I got there about fifteen minutes early and sat there drinking my iced coffee and reading Sam Pink’s Witch Piss. When I arrived, the sun was in my eyes, but soon after, it has progressed to being behind a building. Cue a sunset; cue a haze over the city and the New Jersey waterfront beyond.
A few years ago, I worked in an office where my desk faced a window that looked out over the Hudson River and out into New Jersey. It did wonders for my mood, feeling a sense of time; knowing where the sun was. Being able to look out into the distance; being able to have a sense of where in the day (or the night) you are. Today was one of the first days in a while where I’ve recaptured that sensation. Here’s to it.