The sun sets across Hudson Street and I am at my desk, looking up and over at the clear blue sky. It stands above and beyond the grey building with windows outlined in sea-foam blue, neither teal nor aqua. The hum of a diesel engine continues outside our window, more construction. They're recreating the sidewalk ––– re-imagining Hudson Street, making more room for people walking. I have given eight years and five months to this city. An all-white plane flies above. It's a Monday that feels like a Sunday, President's Day, and also Michael Jordan's birthday. Stay home if you want, or go to the office, but only if you want.
February Seventeenth, 2020