Natalie Nascenzi's Blog - Posts Tagged "art"
except from the book “The Aftermath of Unrest”
There was no “New York Energy.” It was the shell of a city––as if the buildings were dry bones, resting peacefully in a graveyard of concrete.
The soul of the city is the endless stream of diverse people that flood the streets. It’s the liveliness of bars and restaurants. The honking of taxi cars and the rumble from the subway beneath your feet. It’s the smell of Halal carts, sidewalk garbage, and cherry blossoms.
New York City is electrifying, unexpected, and spontaneously chaotic in the most wonderful way. It’s a blur of people, places, and things all happening at once. New York City is alive. It’s the city that never sleeps.
Until it does.
Park Avenue, April 2020
Even though we were supposed to stay inside as much as possible, that didn’t stop me from restlessly wandering the empty city. When the Governor said it was okay to go for walks, that’s all I needed to know.
I followed all the rules…mask on, sanitizer handy, and distance kept between me and any lingering stranger on the street (although there were very few).
It was like being the last person on Earth. I walked in circles up and down 1st Ave, down 54th to Park, and back down 53rd––every single day, multiple times a day. It was safer staying close to home and it was better to walk with my thoughts instead of sit in place with them. At least I could blast music and lose myself in the surrounding emptiness of the City. These lonely walks became ritualistic. It was my new routine and a way to keep my sanity in check throughout the day.
The beginning of April was the worst of the pandemic. It was just before we “hit the climax” and were steadily approaching the darkest of days. On April 5 during one of my walks, I decided to sit on Park Avenue. It was just after a massive downpour and the concrete was shiny and sleek. The air smelled of rain and gravel. The city was absolutely silent. The rain had come and gone but there was nobody to get caught in it. The atmosphere was eerie, dark grey, and lifeless. The sound of the rushing fountain reverberated off the buildings and echoed down the empty street. The deep smoldering sky blended with the concrete. It was as if there was no difference between clouds, building shadows, and asphalt. Everything was one,blanketed in the ashy stillness of silence.
It was truly mind-shattering. Park Avenue was once one of the busiest streets in New York City and now it was completely empty. There wasn’t car in sight nor a person. Every few minutes, I would glance up from my notebook and see someone hopping over puddle and scurrying away; or a couple would walk by with their hoods pulled tight around their heads and masks covering most of their faces.
The city, in this moment, was now a world of two things: silence and eyes.
The soul of the city is the endless stream of diverse people that flood the streets. It’s the liveliness of bars and restaurants. The honking of taxi cars and the rumble from the subway beneath your feet. It’s the smell of Halal carts, sidewalk garbage, and cherry blossoms.
New York City is electrifying, unexpected, and spontaneously chaotic in the most wonderful way. It’s a blur of people, places, and things all happening at once. New York City is alive. It’s the city that never sleeps.
Until it does.
Park Avenue, April 2020
Even though we were supposed to stay inside as much as possible, that didn’t stop me from restlessly wandering the empty city. When the Governor said it was okay to go for walks, that’s all I needed to know.
I followed all the rules…mask on, sanitizer handy, and distance kept between me and any lingering stranger on the street (although there were very few).
It was like being the last person on Earth. I walked in circles up and down 1st Ave, down 54th to Park, and back down 53rd––every single day, multiple times a day. It was safer staying close to home and it was better to walk with my thoughts instead of sit in place with them. At least I could blast music and lose myself in the surrounding emptiness of the City. These lonely walks became ritualistic. It was my new routine and a way to keep my sanity in check throughout the day.
The beginning of April was the worst of the pandemic. It was just before we “hit the climax” and were steadily approaching the darkest of days. On April 5 during one of my walks, I decided to sit on Park Avenue. It was just after a massive downpour and the concrete was shiny and sleek. The air smelled of rain and gravel. The city was absolutely silent. The rain had come and gone but there was nobody to get caught in it. The atmosphere was eerie, dark grey, and lifeless. The sound of the rushing fountain reverberated off the buildings and echoed down the empty street. The deep smoldering sky blended with the concrete. It was as if there was no difference between clouds, building shadows, and asphalt. Everything was one,blanketed in the ashy stillness of silence.
It was truly mind-shattering. Park Avenue was once one of the busiest streets in New York City and now it was completely empty. There wasn’t car in sight nor a person. Every few minutes, I would glance up from my notebook and see someone hopping over puddle and scurrying away; or a couple would walk by with their hoods pulled tight around their heads and masks covering most of their faces.
The city, in this moment, was now a world of two things: silence and eyes.
