Central Park, New York City, Day 1


A feeling such as reading the most beautiful, most vivid book. Sounds are so clear, colours are too bright to be true. Or is it a vision I’ve created so often in my mind that it’s now only almost tangible? The new winter’s cold revitalises, warmed through by the falling browns and oranges of a fading autumn. The lakes glitter and it’s midnight magic at only 5pm. Joggers and cyclists pace past with purpose. I’m going nowhere particular yet feel as though I’m going everywhere all at once, such is the completeness of emotion, of the senses. It can’t be picked apart this time. It’s clumped together, taking some inner, indistinguishable plasticine form. I’m mindless and may as well be formless. It feels as though I’m happy.

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