Earlier, in a rain-drenched and chilly New York, I got lost in the creative strumming of a Japanese guitarist at West 4th station. I don’t know why I easily fall victim to wonderful and romantic tunes. I was enraptured…I was in a standstill. People were rushing as usual, oblivious of my languid state. As the melodies of Fly Me to the Moon, Moonriver and What a Wonderful World filled the entire station with wonderful music, I didn’t notice that I missed two trains. I didn’t care…I just had to savor every tune and feeling evoked by the songs.

I fished in my pocket and gave Kishi, that’s the artist’s name, my last cash for the day. It could have been a good drink at a bar that can fill me with intoxicating gladness, yet I know deep inside that I wouldn’t be needing anything else now but this wonderful feeling of elation. So I left smiling and glad to have fed my heart to the brim—again.

In the City where open fields of flowers are hard to come by, the closest thing I can do in substitute to ‘stopping to smell the flowers’ is this…appreciating pockets of beauty anywhere as it presents itself, may it be in a grimy and old subway stop in downtown Manhattan.



  1. Roel Castillo says:

    My heart gives me no reason to ignore such sentimental romanticism in this materialistically evolved world. It was lovely sharing your experience, I can vividly imagine the comparison, although Sydney is too laid back to be New York, still the encapsulation from the real world is a paradox that we have to live with forever, I think we become innately immune to the impacts of a heterozygous society as a defense mechanism to what the first world term depression, amazingly everyone succombs to, a tinge perhaps, yet your Ilocano blood, mustered all its genetic dominance to cope. An Ilocana in New York, this says it all mate, all the best. Keep it up.

  2. Merry Car says:

    Thank you, Manong Roel.

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