“This ain’t, ain’t one of them train where we be dancing and stuff. My black ass ain’t gone be dancing…”
I transferred unto the A train and was automatically greeted with smooth rnb playing from someone’s hidden speakers. A loud black man who could have easily passed as someone’s uncle, was going on and on about some indistinguishable topic. He was aggressive… but he served as a reminder that I was once again in the city. I had been in a clouded daydream that involved me tripping down four flights of steep metro stairs, each step covered in gum that had been turned black from being covered in thousands of feet so much so to the point they couldn’t even stick to the bottom of your shoes anymore.
Some old rap started playing now “Get, get money…” maybe 50 Cent?
It was my last day in the city and I had to, almost felt the need to make it to Times Square. It was broad daylight out so I wouldn’t be met with the twinkling, illuminating lights you’d see in hundreds of movies. But none the less it would make for great pictures. Pictures that could only be framed by me. No one else would be able to capture the shots I would capture at this hour, on this day. They would forever serve as trophies for myself, unique in every way.
“9 1 1, guess what!? As soon as something happen, who you gone call? 911…”