Today as I was riding the Manhattan bound F train my mood transformed from spaced out to a concentrated envy. It wasn’t materialistic but of historical wisdom. I know why it came to me, I was unappreciative of my new home because I wanted to still hang on to my Texan pride.
I sweep my Don’t Fuck WithTexas Mat that welcomes guests into my home. So I looked outside as someone new. The discolored brick stand-alone mixed with foundation diminishing establishments created a historical story that I began to fictionally formulate in my mind. I walk aside the brick, the walls rusting, as they speak to my soul they nurture my intellectual news feed and thus hold me in their cement arms welcoming me home every day. The graffiti painted buildings graphed a new genre of architecture as it housed a private school while painted initials outlined a checkpoint marking point for a daily runner. I had stories for each building as I was composing a different character for each joke that would become tales passed in generations ahead. This new environment will be shelter when tough seems to be enough and I want to feel like crossing life’s finish line. It gifts me with inspiration that will pave my new path towards a different kind of writing. Today I became a New Yorker.
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