„The business of living is almost entirely about capturing imaginations. Whatever little is left is about taxation“

Radio City at Night


Oh, but you have no way of taking back the lights of Radio City at night, the red and blue lights of Avenue of the Americas, the lingering quality dissolved around us, the shimmer, the pounding, the convoluted vibrancy of trapped between the seconds soul. We sit at those little stone tables and chairs and became full accomplices of the night. From our long traveled silences, the night knew that she can give herself completely to us and still swirl free in uncontained horizons. We are flawless and strange lovers of the dark affair, guilty innocents, whole halves, vicious seekers, unflinching keepers of a maddeningly sought after secret, priests of insight and touch.

It was that young man coming out of that imposing building at a too late and too early hour that had us looking at each other and pierce the soul of the night. We saw him walking at the break of his duty with a switch to the left, around the building, letting me carry the question in your eyes: where is he going, how long before he comes back, is he in the know of making time go slow between coming and going, is he a master of the night? I love this quality of improvisation woven in my time around you and this makes me scared of coming close and this makes me eager to the point of no doubt and no resistance. Let him make the most of his brief respite. Let me go high catching red shimmers of light in the vanishing confession of rain. Make your way to the core of that deep seated innuendo playing in your strong rhythm, the eluding quality, the catchy rhythm, that inescapable contradiction between touch of high fire and achingly present sense of control.

This is why sometimes I hesitate, this is why sometimes I dare shamelessly This is why I am lost when I should be fluid, this is why you have to take the slow journey of lights and rain closer, and take it with your arms, your strength, your fully-bodied desire. This is why I looked at that window, the big wide window of the sleeping restaurant, a table can be made ours, the colors in the bottles can whisper, the drums in the hiding places can reverse the fate of the night.


New York

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