“Please, Lord, not another fire—not this again.” That was all I could say Monday morning as I saw the fire trucks lining our block and smelled that the blaze was near. Looking up towards the sky I could see glowing … Continue reading
Every once in a while I wish I could see what is really going on in my upstairs neighbor’s apartment. He is an intriguing mystery. Like most of the people who live in my building, he has a vaguely familiar … Continue reading
I love watching people do what they love to do. I enjoy seeing them savor the experience like a delicious meal when calories don’t matter. I delight in their delight. I take pleasure in their pleasure. I love watching people do what they love to do—especially when it’s dance or music.
Yesterday I went to see a friend’s band perform in another friend’s newly purchased, pre-renovation apartment—pre-construction, he has generously allowed it to be used as an intimate concert space. I enjoyed the music, but I equally (or even more) enjoyed watching the musicians take pleasure in the music they were making. Eyes sometimes closed, they seemed to be present and elsewhere—deeply rooted in the sound they were creating and also swept away by it.