One-Way Tickets Out Of Town. They never have any repeat customers, nonetheless enjoy a steady clientele, a weary stream of the fleeing, the foundering, the failed. These shops have been next door for years and will remain because there is a need. Fix exteriors and repave, spackle down and gussy up, but impossible to hide is true nature. Some things cannot be demolished. Some things reach down and become bedrock. You’ll stumble upon it soon because it is important. It’s been a while but if he keeps looking he’ll find it, the store where he got what he needed that time and look there it is, hasn’t changed a bit after all these years and the guy behind the counter remembers his name.
THIS CITY is reward for all it will enable you to achieve and punishment for all the crimes it will force you to commit. It’s as if she figured out a puzzle as she stood at the corner waiting for the light to change, look at her face, smiling at nothing we can see. At this pure and flickering light. They always feel a bit awkward when they figure out this place. Stalled at the corner, avoided by crowds as if prophets or homeless. Avoid them as you would any angel who brushed against you. The loneliness is the worst, because this knowledge is something that cannot be shared, only suffered. Just as well. Why should anyone else have it easy. Spoken like a true New Yorker.
JFK
IT’S TIME TO GO.
Everything’s packed. All the necessary documentation is secure in pockets and pouches. The time passed so quickly. Take a moment to look back and regret all the things you didn’t get to do, the places you didn’t get to visit. What you did not see. Promise yourself, Maybe next time.
Assuming it will still be here when you finally return.
Sometimes things disappear.
The airport is one of many conveniently located exits. In the beautiful terminals you can get to anywhere in the world. The names of carriers sort them by destination. Shuffle along and do as you’re told. Just a matter of time until you are home.
Take your seat.
When you talk about this trip, and you will, because it was quite
a journey and you witnessed many things, there were ups and downs, sudden
reversals of fortune and last-minute escapes, it was really something, you will
see your friends nod in recognition. They will say, That reminds me of, and they
will say, I know exactly what you mean. They know what you are talking about
before the words are out of your mouth.
Talking about New York is a way of talking about the world.
Wake up. With a shudder finally kicked out of the dream. Impossibly this gigantic creature has taken off. This unlikely gargoyle with impossible wings. How we flutter sometimes. Settle in for the journey and forget. Please forget. Try to forget bit by bit, it will be easier on you. Leave it behind. Then the plane tilts in its escape and over the gray wing the city explodes into view with all its miles and spires and inscrutable hustle and as you try to comprehend this sight you realize that you were never really there at all.
The author would like to thank his friends and neighbors for all their help in getting this thing together: Nicole Aragi, Nicholas Dawidoff, Richard Nash, Tina Pohlman, Bill Thomas, and Kevin Young. These pages would be blank without the love and support of Natasha Stovall.
Photos of Brooklyn Bridge and “13” © Thinkstock/Wonderfile.
Photos of subway sign, taxi, park bench, traffic, and jet
© Royalty-free/Corbis. Photos of city at night and reflection of Empire
State Building by Andrea Sperling, Getty Images/digitalvision.
Photo of aerial view of New York City by Steve Cole, Getty
Images/Photodisc. Photo of people walking by Spike Mafford,
Getty Images/Photodisc. Photo of Coney Island by S. Meltzer, Getty
Images/Photolink.
COLSON WHITEHEAD
THE COLOSSUS OF NEW YORK
Colson Whitehead was born and raised in New York City. He is the author of
The Intuitionist
and
John Henry Days
and is a recipient of
THIS CITY is reward for all it will enable you to achieve and punishment for all the crimes it will force you to commit. It’s as if she figured out a puzzle as she stood at the corner waiting for the light to change, look at her face, smiling at nothing we can see. At this pure and flickering light. They always feel a bit awkward when they figure out this place. Stalled at the corner, avoided by crowds as if prophets or homeless. Avoid them as you would any angel who brushed against you. The loneliness is the worst, because this knowledge is something that cannot be shared, only suffered. Just as well. Why should anyone else have it easy. Spoken like a true New Yorker.
JFK
IT’S TIME TO GO.
Everything’s packed. All the necessary documentation is secure in pockets and pouches. The time passed so quickly. Take a moment to look back and regret all the things you didn’t get to do, the places you didn’t get to visit. What you did not see. Promise yourself, Maybe next time.
Assuming it will still be here when you finally return.
Sometimes things disappear.
The airport is one of many conveniently located exits. In the beautiful terminals you can get to anywhere in the world. The names of carriers sort them by destination. Shuffle along and do as you’re told. Just a matter of time until you are home.
Take your seat.
When you talk about this trip, and you will, because it was quite
a journey and you witnessed many things, there were ups and downs, sudden
reversals of fortune and last-minute escapes, it was really something, you will
see your friends nod in recognition. They will say, That reminds me of, and they
will say, I know exactly what you mean. They know what you are talking about
before the words are out of your mouth.
Talking about New York is a way of talking about the world.
Wake up. With a shudder finally kicked out of the dream. Impossibly this gigantic creature has taken off. This unlikely gargoyle with impossible wings. How we flutter sometimes. Settle in for the journey and forget. Please forget. Try to forget bit by bit, it will be easier on you. Leave it behind. Then the plane tilts in its escape and over the gray wing the city explodes into view with all its miles and spires and inscrutable hustle and as you try to comprehend this sight you realize that you were never really there at all.
The author would like to thank his friends and neighbors for all their help in getting this thing together: Nicole Aragi, Nicholas Dawidoff, Richard Nash, Tina Pohlman, Bill Thomas, and Kevin Young. These pages would be blank without the love and support of Natasha Stovall.
Photos of Brooklyn Bridge and “13” © Thinkstock/Wonderfile.
Photos of subway sign, taxi, park bench, traffic, and jet
© Royalty-free/Corbis. Photos of city at night and reflection of Empire
State Building by Andrea Sperling, Getty Images/digitalvision.
Photo of aerial view of New York City by Steve Cole, Getty
Images/Photodisc. Photo of people walking by Spike Mafford,
Getty Images/Photodisc. Photo of Coney Island by S. Meltzer, Getty
Images/Photolink.
COLSON WHITEHEAD
THE COLOSSUS OF NEW YORK
Colson Whitehead was born and raised in New York City. He is the author of
The Intuitionist
and
John Henry Days
and is a recipient of
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