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Show 112 a complete nervous system on display-the brain, eyes and nerves of a single body-molded back into the basic human form. I looked at that for a long time. I was almost dry when I reclaimed my still-soaked backpack and jacket at the front desk. I decided that I would walk across the Brooklyn Bridge one more time before I went back for my suitcase and flew home to Utah. The previous Sunday I had forced Erin to go to Catholic church at St. Patrick's with me, and when we walked back to her apartment over the bridge in the sun, it was full of bikers and joggers and walkers. This time I saw one man running down with a garbage bag poncho over his head as I started to ascend, and nobody else was on the bridge. It was the most open space I had seen since I flew into New York. The rain was falling fast and heavy; if not for the solid wood beneath my feet, my perception would have taken on a lost-at-sea quality. At the center of the bridge I saw water in the sky and below me, shades of gray blurring together from the buildings to the horizon to the water. It felt a little like it does out on dark water in bright moonlight, when there are stars above and reflecting on the water below. You can watch the galaxy in all directions. Later I would notice that my phone was broken due to water damage, that several books and notebook pages in my backpack were permanently blurred together. I would find myself in La Guardia airport trying to determine which seat was farthest from someone eating. I would fly over the Great Salt Lake with a screaming infant literally in my face sitting on her mother in the seat in front of me and feel a mix of nostalgia and sad resignation. But for now, Brooklyn Bridge was empty. The New York harbor had a mirror-like quality to it, until the rain |
