Pirata's Stories

Nice Dream

i stare into this image and almost imagine that it’s mine.  and what do i do here? mostly read.  maybe friends come over occasionally for dinners and we drink on the porch on nice summer nights.  

and its clean.  that porch looks like its not covered in filth or cigarette butts or cockroaches hiding underneath.  i bet inside there is carpet somewhere.  i bet you could walk around barefoot on it and it would feel like a giant towel under your toes.  

the windows probably let light in.  i bet you could wake up and feel sunlight.  

at night you wouldn’t hear shouting or police sirens or car alarms or garbage men or people beating their kids or dogs left outside in the rain barking.  but, im not so sure i could sleep without it now.

sometimes i think brooklyn has taken a toll on me.  i probably just need to move to a better part.  i don’t hate it here, i really don’t.  

i love the city;

i love the eight thousand things to do and see.  

i love the quick pace to everything.  

i love the well-accepted zero-tolerance for inefficient and slow things.  

i love the idea of not needing a car.  i love taking trains (when they aren’t fucked up).  

and in a strange way i love the toughness of these dirty filthy parts of it, as if it were a reflection or a connection of my own rough childhood.

so, im not sure if this image and all that floods my mind along with it are better kept as escape, as a day dream, a place where i can go when the city cramps up on me OR if i am actually ready to leave the city.  

i know one day i will leave.  

wherever i go, i want snow and a husky or two.  and that is one part of my childhood i will always cling to.  

(originally written 20 June 2009)

(original photo via bombaykino but i stumbled across it via scout)