We had a long weekend in the States and I spent most of it moving through the sunshine, as if I’d been let loose from the angry rain. I rode over it’s reflections on the pavement with my bike, watched it slice through the trees as I hiked and, with my hair in the grass, I let it soak right through me.
On Saturday we went to Governor’s Island which, in it’s own strange way, is an inspiration for my current work in progress, Rabbit Island. Governor’s Island is the kind of place I know I’ll be talking about in years to come. I’ll come back to New York City and learn of it’s fate. I’ll shake my head in dismay.
“Remember when the ferries were free?” I’ll say. “When you could ride your bike wherever you wanted and there were no cars? Remember the abandoned houses and the dormitories? How everything was all fenced in? The weird art installation in the church? The miniature golf course that looked like something your old hippie neighbor had scrambled together in his yard and let the neighborhood kids play for free? Remember when we signed a waiver to look inside a castle? How we peaked our heads inside a darkened room and listened to an audio recording about trading a boat for a bit of dust? Remember?”
Every time I’m there I want to change the cliche because it should be: ‘nothing strange can stay’. But I hope that Governor’s Island does.
After that, we took the ferry back and looked at the Brooklyn Bridge, all covered in white tarp and construction. “What a terrible time to take a picture of the Brooklyn Bridge,” I told Tyler.
And so, he snapped a picture anyway.