Snow falls in a quiet dust landing on my scalp and shoulders. It’s bitter out here. It leaks through the zipper of my boots, stings the soles of my feet, snaps and fractures as I walk across it. New York streets require good soles to navigate. A good grip, a steady pace. I pull the crisp air into my lungs, watch it unfurl as I exhale. The car arrives and struggles to park outside the apartment, tires slipping. I unload my luggage next to a pile of snow shoveled like a heap of garbage; they all are. 150 pounds that make up my life tucked into three suitcases. I look up to the fourth floor and the adjoining staircases.
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8 am. The floors creak above me. Bodies like furniture, feet dragging across old floorboards. The pipes crack and pop, radiators hiss. Bare panes of cloudy glass. The day begins with a slant and a glare.
Placement.
A change of position, I shift under the sheets. The possibility of hearing lives you'll simply never see.
What did the people below us hear? How about the people across? Through the windows? Were we all voluntary exhibitionists and voyeurs?
I had to admit, it wasn't exactly a thought that hadn't crossed my mind before and as I sat in front of my new large bedroom windows, I undressed.
Welcome to vertical living.
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More, more, more! <3
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