In late July, when it felt like the days would be feverish forever and my hair was still so short it took less than a minute to dry, I rode the train up to Beacon, New York. I made a production of it, calling it my own kidnapping, insisting that I go solo, that I was skipping town. I get that way every so often: suddenly solitary, suddenly gamine and wary and mobile, trying to shed my surroundings as a snake sheds its skin. The less of anyone else the better, and any less of me is best, too. On the ride up along the Hudson I watched the river shimmer and tried to capture that coruscating light and, I don’t know, it all blurs. I don’t remember what I was reading that day. Mostly I remember being alone with the overwhelming noise of my own head.
harbor
harbor
harbor
In late July, when it felt like the days would be feverish forever and my hair was still so short it took less than a minute to dry, I rode the train up to Beacon, New York. I made a production of it, calling it my own kidnapping, insisting that I go solo, that I was skipping town. I get that way every so often: suddenly solitary, suddenly gamine and wary and mobile, trying to shed my surroundings as a snake sheds its skin. The less of anyone else the better, and any less of me is best, too. On the ride up along the Hudson I watched the river shimmer and tried to capture that coruscating light and, I don’t know, it all blurs. I don’t remember what I was reading that day. Mostly I remember being alone with the overwhelming noise of my own head.