she is home.
I watched the sunset on the east side of Manhattan. Reflections bathing her in light, like it’s cleansing her, and us, of our day of debauchery. Seeing the beauty of this city in these evening colors, I feel as though I relate to the landscape. Strong, unwavering, busy, always giving, and going and providing. It’s a birth of life and funeral all at once. But in this glow, at this hour... Brooklyn is quiet. She is strong still, but she is vulnerable. She is beautiful. She needs some love, and she needs some rest. She is home.