I head out the door and this time I decide to leave my watch on the dining room table. Time will elapse on its self; I don’t need to keep track.
The small shops on Wisconsin Avenue in D.C. tempt me again. It’s always the same temptation. The temptation of life in the city that never sleeps, that never shuts off its lights…New York. I look inside an empty Laundromat and I like the idea of going inside, inserting a coin and doing the laundry, the thing I do best. But I’ve already done today’s laundry.
I walk ahead of them and I know that time is elapsing on its own. I feel its power and I’m not going to stop it. I take pleasure in my fast, yet cautious walk under this dark, starless night. The sidewalk, the road, the night, and a moment of pure contentment all belong to me, or so it seems.
And that moment is when I know that I can and will have the life I want, the life in a sleepless city, the life of dirty Laundromats, dark allies, dismal apartments and loud motorbikes.
Time means nothing…