Realizing to be here. Looking around and not taking pictures; only savor the present, live intensely the thing in which one is immersed. The lights, the colors: gray, apple green, steel blue, brick red, peril yellow, cream and beige, black and gold, mosaic pink and stone. The sounds and the noises, and the sirens - so many sirens - the screaming kids, loud blacks, the whites always complaining, the rattle of trains, but mostly the music, even more than the sirens. the smells and perfumes; the fried chicken, the curry, the roses, the dust, the sewers, the concrete, the sweets and the burgers. and the sensations, the cold from the air conditioning above all, but also the heat of the hot feet on the curb, the cool sand, the wind and the sweat, the pain in the back, the stiff neck on Wall street and the sore legs at the Guggenheim. I'm here, and the words will never be enough, just like time.