Architect: Santiago Calatrava: Oculus: World Trade Center: New York
Two Worlds as One
I am alone: Effective photography lays paused in a quiet stagnation: There is zero mischief amidst the moment with my five-hundred pound companion. My story linked by evolution and ancestry: The fable begins:
Neverland- -is a near distant world; home to reverie and spirited destinations: We sit with uneven breaths: Arms intertwined- -understandingly passionate: My mere gerth and the Silverbacks’ envelops: we portray the Hula in the guise of a Pas de Deux avec leis- -demonstrate the glamorous ballon afoot- -the un imaginable at play- -My trusted, the one who sees as I: The thunderous six-foot, five- hundred pound silverback cozied near with dreams that rest as one:
The bench we inhabit sees two jungles: The verdant and fabricated: We as one encapsulate two views- -before and around: Our eyes a mist- -eyes in the mist seeing hundreds of cities: Our jungles as one: Two separate worlds entangled as one- -One world: Two cultures breathing, entwined by legacies of our jungle: The thousand memories from a thousand years- -linger: The legacy- -we brace for, lives after:
Architect: Rafael Moneo: Torre Puig Headquarters and more: Barcelona
Alone not lonely- -an imaginable history experienced in several tenses. Oh to be: I could and maybe It is not me and my Silverback: Maybe it is something simpler: Maybe I do cozy with Manhattan’s Woody Allen and Diane Keaton: Maybe their world view in that finite moment has always been mine; The Queensborough Bridge in view Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” lofting, lilting and enveloping like a tsunami tippy topped with a dozen swans’ silken feathers. I consider one fabulist after another and another:
Thomas Macaulay plaintively recites;
'Then out spake brave Horatius,/ The Captain of the Gate:/ 'To every man upon this earth/ Death cometh soon or late;/ And how can man die better/ Than facing fearful odds,/ For the ashes of his fathers,/ And the temple of his gods.''
I prefer that I as we, have always seen more than the jungles that are theirs and ours: We two with eyes wide open: Soft feels near: We dream and remember: The wind at our backs: Two jungles one idea: Our worlds vastly different: We are one nuzzled: Defining histories splayed before our eyes: Behind and ahead- -we as beasts- -eyes enjoined.
“Nightlife” Architects Kohn Pedersen and Fox: One Madison on the left: Architects Cetraruddy on the right: New York City
One Silverback and I navigate the bend in the Elysian river towards a more expansive future: The river’s currents pace our desires: The air plunged out of the solar plexus: Lights flicker in the distance: Waves of said river offer adventures’ previews in unforeseen clarity:
We remain as one in solemn reveries enjoining again and again our hands as two worlds: The natural and fabricated: A visual feast is ours to taste: Hands held- -The mirrored experiences in perfect imaginary time await.
Alone but never lonely I can map cities that wait to entertain my camera: They will be imagine as jungles and adventures: They will be imagined as imaginations on steroids: They will be imagined as fables that may become my true dreams rising to the moment: I address the globe as a destination to live an entire dream in an unforeseen reality: accompanied by Manhattans’ two some or my my Silverback adorning a lei: Look through my lens with my eyes- -and again.
Virgin Hotel NoMad: Architects: Markzeff and Stantec: New York City