Relations...

It is 2 AM and I am standing at the crosswalk on the corner of 5th avenue. As I walk towards 42nd St. I notice Times Square is quiet tonight.

It is not silent, mind you – no, the “city that never sleeps” could never be silent. It is 3 AM and the gaudy charmer still churns, twists, flashes its vitality of energy and movement – “You CANNOT miss this show! Buy your tickets now!” Coca-Cola sign, M&M's World, Barclays, Macys, laughter bubbles cold winter “would you mind taking a picture of us?” girls in pink uniforms flash-dance camera in front of a set with Ryan Seacrest. Jenny McCarthy sizzles in front of a 100 flashing cameras a feet away; Pretzels, Mary Poppins, Starbucks; grande skinny vanilla lattes, smoke from cigarettes, American Eagle . . .all and yet, Times Square is quiet.

I stand here – in the midst of all the bustle, honking, explosive color and lights – and the world suddenly blurs, its violent contrast abruptly muted to an almost harmonious hum.

And in the pulse that remains along its softened edges, I find what I have been searching.

“There is nothing to writing. You just sit down and bleed” - Ernest Hemingway