So much of adventure is the space that you’re in, but a large part of it is also time that is shared. It was in high school that I first fell in love with adventure and New York City. Falling in love with New York — falling in love with its adventure — feels like every native New Yorker’s birthright. But that feeling seems to have lost its way. I’m lost in New York City.
I feel numb, as though I’ve lost my sense of purpose and adventure. Not my purpose in life per se, but just in the motivation of things. I’m still very excited and interested in the smaller things, but I can no longer see the bigger picture. I know I once had it. Perhaps it’s still there somewhere, and that’s why I say it’s lost. And what are lost things meant for? They’re meant to be found. I want to find it, but where do I begin?
New York City. The greatest city in the world. “The Big Apple”. An apple to represent life and its vibrance. How ironic, to think the size of it would become the challenge.
I guess in a sense my world’s lost its color. I still see the shades, but that’s all there is. Just a different tone, in a different light. No more vibrance. Life just isn’t exotic. It isn’t as mystifying as it once was. It’s as though I’m a painting and the people around me, the painters. I recently lost a very important painter in my life. And she had all the right colors.
But you know what’s funny? As I lose color, I gain depth. And somewhere in that depth I am sure adventure awaits…
