New York: Before and After

 by Dulcie Langley

Image: Toni Osmundson (Unsplash)

Before, the city was a kaleidoscope. Exhausts spluttering, people jostling and sirens wailing in a dysfunctional orchestra. Fluorescent signs coruscated resplendent with the promise of possibility. Shoes strode with the utmost resolve. Skyscrapers did not cower at the vast expanse of sky above them. Instead they stood tall and undaunted, ascending with intrepid ambition. Their neutral tones spoke of artistry and passion, not monotony, for those inside were operating with vision and intent. In spite of the insipid clouds looming overhead, a warmth was here. Dreams could be tasted tangibly in the air amidst the belching of thick smoke. Indeed, there was spirit. There was a spark. 

Image: Christopher Ott (Unsplash)

Now, the city was merely a skeleton. A vacant vessel, void of the pulsating heart that granted it life. Somehow the scintillating neon hues of the street lights could not induce illumination in the mind. In this desolate jungle, whatever vivid colour the eyes perceived amounted to vapid monochrome in feeling. For the silence was brutally deafening - no drum of marching feet, no piercing shriek of a car horn, no indistinct chatter from a circle of friends. Perhaps more striking though was the absence of those sounds that were not audible conventionally, but detected by the soul. The hum of hope and purpose that usually clings to the air, palpable without being seen or heard.  That emotion, that energy, that no man can truly discern or describe but understands in sentience. That unspoken experience that reassures us of connection. That tells us that we aren’t alone. 

That feeling. It’s gone.