Day 4: Untitled
Albert Einstein School of Medicine
NY Botanical Garden
Hotel
After a brief promenade on the dusty campus of Albert Einstein School of Medicine, I visited the NY Botanical Garden in the Bronx, a few minutes within reaching which I took some pictures of the Haupt Conservatory and its surrounding greenery.
It was around 3pm when I checked email at the Garden library. I quickly decided that the best thing to do would be to return to the hotel room and spend the evening there. In my last hour at the Garden, I passed by some willows and took a brief excursion through a rock garden. Planted tightly together, in what nature could call a horticultural freak-show, were rock plants carried from the Andes, Appalachia, Mongolia. I couldn't help thinking that even in their crowded beds, each plant looked distinctly lonely under the Bronx sky. At 4:30pm I took another bus through the Bronx back to a Manhattan subway station.
I was happy to finally be outside the oppressive quiet of the Garden. As I looked around for almost 5 minutes for the Uptown 1 or 9 lines, among hundreds of strangers who in all probability I would never see again, I felt strangely secure. As an approximation to that illusive home, NY was better than home itself. And for the first time in almost 6 years, I felt a quiet release. It had only been 4 days and yet I could sense the creeping hour of departure.
"We the readers, the sole witnesses of what was said between the huntsman and the deputy of the community of Riva, learn little of the fate of Gracchus, except that many, many years before, in the Black Forest, where he was on guard against the wolves which still prowled the hills at that time, he went in pursuit of a chamois - and is this not one of the strangest items of misinformation in all the tales that have ever been told? - he went in pursuit of a chamois and fell to his death from the face of a mountain; and that because of a wrong turn of the tiller, a moment of inattention on the part of the helmsman, distracted by the beauty of the huntsman's dark green country, the barque which was to have ferried him to the shore beyond failed to make the crossing, so that he, Gracchus, has been voyaging the seas of the world ever since, without respite, as he says, attempting now here and now there to make land."
Back in the hotel room, BBC News and a re-run of The Daily Show.
NY Botanical Garden
Hotel
After a brief promenade on the dusty campus of Albert Einstein School of Medicine, I visited the NY Botanical Garden in the Bronx, a few minutes within reaching which I took some pictures of the Haupt Conservatory and its surrounding greenery.
It was around 3pm when I checked email at the Garden library. I quickly decided that the best thing to do would be to return to the hotel room and spend the evening there. In my last hour at the Garden, I passed by some willows and took a brief excursion through a rock garden. Planted tightly together, in what nature could call a horticultural freak-show, were rock plants carried from the Andes, Appalachia, Mongolia. I couldn't help thinking that even in their crowded beds, each plant looked distinctly lonely under the Bronx sky. At 4:30pm I took another bus through the Bronx back to a Manhattan subway station.I was happy to finally be outside the oppressive quiet of the Garden. As I looked around for almost 5 minutes for the Uptown 1 or 9 lines, among hundreds of strangers who in all probability I would never see again, I felt strangely secure. As an approximation to that illusive home, NY was better than home itself. And for the first time in almost 6 years, I felt a quiet release. It had only been 4 days and yet I could sense the creeping hour of departure.
"We the readers, the sole witnesses of what was said between the huntsman and the deputy of the community of Riva, learn little of the fate of Gracchus, except that many, many years before, in the Black Forest, where he was on guard against the wolves which still prowled the hills at that time, he went in pursuit of a chamois - and is this not one of the strangest items of misinformation in all the tales that have ever been told? - he went in pursuit of a chamois and fell to his death from the face of a mountain; and that because of a wrong turn of the tiller, a moment of inattention on the part of the helmsman, distracted by the beauty of the huntsman's dark green country, the barque which was to have ferried him to the shore beyond failed to make the crossing, so that he, Gracchus, has been voyaging the seas of the world ever since, without respite, as he says, attempting now here and now there to make land."
Vertigo - W.G. Sebald
Back in the hotel room, BBC News and a re-run of The Daily Show.
posted by No You're Not at 5:32 AM
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