I questioned a lot of time how much I actually put into practice what I often times spoke.
I saw the reflection of him and quickly got consumed by his silent sound. I saw what made him, him. There was this raw street about him. He moved with the swagger and essence of the streets…everything about him was this strange hoodness that permeated every pore. He was the quintessential man’s man…quintessential being my favorite word. I was interested in him…my interest in him lay in the fullness of what he brought to the table.
He was smooth, the gravel of his voice leaked authority and that alone added tinges of fear to my being. Though he was kind and willing to be approached and consulted, I couldn’t help but fathom there was a darkness that pervaded his being…a ruthlessness that could be unleashed with no questions asked.
I met him in a subway station on 5th and Kent. I had just come from a art exhibit, my work had garnered much chatter and of course I was on cloud 9 or 10 or 11 or something and I had settled in my seat preparing to relax and hasten toward my loft when I caught his shape out the corner of my eyes. It wasn’t unusual for me to catch various individuals but this time I caught him with his sight fixed on me. I nodded that customary greeting and it was returned. Later I found myself sitting across the table from him in a little corner coffee shop.
*TBA*
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