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September 10, 2004
Even before the magic light arrives. The sky is the deepest of blues right now. In the building across broadway only one window is lit. A man with a funny walk just entered the subway station. A couple in posh trainings outfits just crossed 96th street. And a few blocks from here, a helicopter keeps hovering, obviously with the engine on, a loud annoying kerosine burning shouting self-important machine. Wait till the sun comes out. It will show this guy who on earth has more staying power. I am not here to wait for the outcome of this. The next hour at least will be spent on levitating through birch forests, where the air is so sweet and heavy that all living things swim in it and push their way from tree to tree with closed eyes, peacefully. And without making the tiniest of sounds.