Silhouettes–Definition Through Simplicity

All images featured are from Lens, a photography blog associated with The New York Times.

The [Brent Spence] Bridge Song

You were intertwined with him on your father's couch, and I lay displaced nearby. I overlooked the river as we talked, seeing it divide city from country. As grown up as I felt with elitist upperclassmen, I was aware of the divide, and certainly on the fringe. If I had my license, I would've left, but you wound me around your finger, convincing me to stay and watch The Royal Tenenbaums, braiding me into belonging. You bathed in the uniqueness of this "new" music, mimicking the poetic sounds while deaf to their meanings. I mimicked you.

I discovered the "59th Street Bridge Song" by Simon & Garfunkel long before I recognized that the 59th Street bridge connected Manhattan to Queens, and that for three months, I walked past this bridge almost daily. Past, not over. I was never in the lighthearted mood the poetic sounds insinuated, but then again I was moving so fast, stirring up a deafening wind, that I camouflaged any possibilities of connecting. I ran past, and continued to encounter the divide.

I'm intertwined into an unlikely city now with 1/7 of the population. I drive the Brent Spence Bridge daily, linking work and home. Windows down, I blare "The Seventh Seal" from an old high school mix, the only CDs that play in my car now. The car, the music, the bridge—nothing unique, but all propelling me toward and through. Spinning my straw into gold, I am sewn into the fabric of this city.