A Brisk Sound Walk.

The streets of Hospital town in Kipps Bay feel cold enough to hang meat. One can easily throw caution to the wind once seduced by the gales of this night that are making the city streets dance and the noses of New Yorkers crimson. The gust of the wind is so piercing. The tumult excited by yellow taxis and 9–5ers returning home is growing faint. A halcyon mood falls upon city dwellers and brings with it an ominous sense of anticipation. Or emotional despair? Perhaps falling short of being a model student, employee, friend, mother, father, sister, brother, boyfriend, girlfriend, being? My boots clunk away as I traverse the semi–desolate sidewalks and my foggy breath lingers as I cross over from street to street. At times it feels as though I'm a subaqueous creature as the wind muffles the sounds around me, yanking me out of my comfort zone. The fluorescent lit city is doing no justice to the scattered fall foliage. Nonetheless, the shuffling of naked tree branches is much too eminent for the dismal night to disguise. I saunter up the streets as the street numbers plummet. Upon reaching the corner of East 25^th street, my footsteps begin to follow the beating of my heart and I begin to sashay. City bikers secure their blue metal vehicles at the station adjacent to me. Clunking of metals follow laughters of students who are also struck by the cold and heading home to their heated dorm rooms. A cyclist weaves into the bikers lane with his thumb planted on his bells, ring–ring–ring! I continue hauling ass until I arrive at the gate. Warmth is at arms length and with that notion sitting atop my noggin I slip my frozen hand into the pocket of my downed coat to grab hold of my Hunter ID and tap it's skin to the surface of the tap–machine. Beep–beep. Sweet, I am in at last! Boots clunking away, I enter the building of warmth that is my dorm, my home. Chatters of security staff looms over and freely I walk in the direction of my room, ensconced in echoes of my dorm–mates chatters. Into the hallway I go. 



It's a strong wind today and we drink according to the wind. — Ernest Hemingway