A death, a city life

The air is not as thick. The noises more frenetic. My eyes are fixed on red bricks and white paned windows sprouting out of Bleecker Street. The cars and people passing are out of eyes view and I think of my life, this box that I now inhabit once again versus the expanse I roamed. The cars scream instead of the ocean. Concrete awaits me as opposed to sand. I never said goodbye to Puerto Rico. The life of cadence simply paused. But as days pass the life that was mine evaporates into something I cannot resume.

A death. A memorial is required. I am losing something and I don’t know how to say goodbye.

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