This was the stairway to friends' homes. This was the stairway to where art was attempted. This was the stairway to normal get-togethers. This was the stairways to places that sold what we needed to buy to accomplish what we were attempting to accomplish. This was the stairway to what we all struggled to accomplish. This was the stairway that was normal to climb to wherever we were going.
5 comments:
oh my, i can feel the sadness in your words,
and yet I feel so happy and safe in places like these.
CO - Those long dark staircases where among my first impressions of NY. My friend's place on 3rd, friends out in Brooklyn . . . in Montreal the staircases are on the outside. In NY, you walked up through the gloom, the plaster dust - and met whoever you'd come to see at the other end. I do remember feeling curiously safe in these places, like they insulated you in some way . . .
T
forgot that about Montreal and how odd it all seemed. And cold and slippery. More worried about ice than anyone lurking in the shadows.
Yeah, those curving outdoor staircases - there was a reason why the staircases were built outside the houses but I can't remember it now. NOT slipping and breaking your neck on the stairs in winter was part of the Montreal experience, in the way that crime, chaos etc used to be part of New York's . . .
T.
Post a Comment