Two animals, crossing a field. Seemingly not aligned in any formal way. But not at odds with each other either. One looks up, takes note of the other, but remains still. The other takes steps forward.
Their paths cross, then diverge. And neither is afraid. No communication there, no, not at all. Just an acknowledgement and then movement forward. Perfect, don’t you think?
It’s rare that I find myself on State Street in the winter after dark. It’s rarer that I do something so seemingly urban as “a dinner and a show.” Indeed, some years ago I turned from being a frequent concert goer to being a never concert goer. Something to do with the Madison venue and, let’s face it, age.
Tonight I did it all: I went from fields of deer and wild turkeys and farmettes with overgrown raspberry canes, to city lights and glitzy drinks and wet sidewalks that, for once looked quite beautiful on this December night.
One thing you do well if you’re an immigrant is move effortlessly between different environments. From sheepshed to State Street. No problem.