“Zoë, darling, come here. Don’t go near that man,” the mother’s voice is drenched in disgust as she eyes me suspiciously, avoiding my glacial stare. Oh, the kindness of strangers.
My fingertips are the cold colour of the dusking, January sky. The streets of New York are swarming with absorbed souls, all caged by their own thoughts. I hang on to words spoken by strangers, attempting to distract myself from the piercing wind, numbing my bones. You could say I’m a regular. Baptised on the streets by the cold looks of bystanders. “The Madison-Inn Tramp”. This is my corner. My bite of “The Big Apple”.
Today, a minute feels multiplied, dragging on and on like a low budget movie playing late on a Tuesday night. I often find myself pondering about where people come from, what their stories are. I’m desperate to tell people my story, but that thought vanishes almost as suddenly as it appeared. I am reminded that no one cares. That in this city, I am nothing. To them, the passers, I am a mere waste of space, polluting their grand city. …show more content…
I take in the hum of the every day Manhattan rush, no one ever pausing. A constant buzz of chaos. The winter wind carries the strong, onion-filled scent of the iconic hotdog, making my stomach roar with hunger. Saliva floods my mouth as my tastebuds tingle. The steam slowly oozes from the gutter beside me. My all-inclusive-at-home sauna. As a gush of air races past, my grip on my frayed cloth tightens, enclosing myself in the safety of the threadbare blanket. Suddenly, I’m aware of the little comfort the cardboard gives me from the cracked
My fingertips are the cold colour of the dusking, January sky. The streets of New York are swarming with absorbed souls, all caged by their own thoughts. I hang on to words spoken by strangers, attempting to distract myself from the piercing wind, numbing my bones. You could say I’m a regular. Baptised on the streets by the cold looks of bystanders. “The Madison-Inn Tramp”. This is my corner. My bite of “The Big Apple”.
Today, a minute feels multiplied, dragging on and on like a low budget movie playing late on a Tuesday night. I often find myself pondering about where people come from, what their stories are. I’m desperate to tell people my story, but that thought vanishes almost as suddenly as it appeared. I am reminded that no one cares. That in this city, I am nothing. To them, the passers, I am a mere waste of space, polluting their grand city. …show more content…
I take in the hum of the every day Manhattan rush, no one ever pausing. A constant buzz of chaos. The winter wind carries the strong, onion-filled scent of the iconic hotdog, making my stomach roar with hunger. Saliva floods my mouth as my tastebuds tingle. The steam slowly oozes from the gutter beside me. My all-inclusive-at-home sauna. As a gush of air races past, my grip on my frayed cloth tightens, enclosing myself in the safety of the threadbare blanket. Suddenly, I’m aware of the little comfort the cardboard gives me from the cracked