A New Yorker: 17 Days

It’s been one of those days where I’m not sure how it got to be 10:40pm when I just woke up like 10 minutes ago. One of those days where everything just kind of blurs together. Looking back on it I didn’t pay attention to theΒ violinist and mandolin players at my station this morning even thoughΒ I get super psyched every time they show up in the morning. I didn’t pay attention to Chinatown’s typical “Bags, wallet, glasses” calls as I rushed past the same people I see every single day (these same people have seen me come and go from the subway every day for the past 2.5 years… Surely they remember me by now). I didn’t pay attention to how I intentionally stayed out of the shadowy part of the block on my mid-day walk. It was chilly again. And I definitely didn’t think twice about the man inside the N train performing what I can only assume was one of Shakespeare’s monologues in a baseball cap and a Universal Orlando jacket. I was too busy trying to pay attention to my podcast; my ear buds blaring. I didn’t notice and now the day is gone.

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