Escalators in the North East

After two months of living the life of an aimless individual, I can finally say I am no longer unemployed. For a while, it felt as if things were closing in on me - space only shrank, it never expanded.

I had the sensation of walking upwards on an downward-bound escalator.
If you think about it, escalators are almost purposeless. A long strip of rubber forming of ephemeral steps. Then suddenly disappearing into a slit in the ground.
To re-emerge. In the same form.

Like samsara - the cycle of life and death that Bill Mahony says man is caught up in.

I've felt those walls fall over in the last week since I knew that someone somewhere had faith in my abilities.

But it seems like there are a few more hills to climb.
My life, which has been in labeled boxes - "Toileteries," "Microwave," "Kitchen," "Linens" - in my uncle's attic will now be shipped to a new city. A city where everything within a few miles of downtown is called a suburb. A city where the subway runs above ground. A city that is homogenous in demographics just like Davidson was.

A city, essentially, that is not New York.
Not impulsive.
Not maniacal.
Not violent.
Not softened by the snow or hardened by the sun.
Not concrete for miles.
Not a palette that I could mix colours on for ages.

Once again, I have to snip snip snip my roots from the rest of me and move.
Once more, make friends with new people, and roads, and strong-smelling coffee shops.

Ask Anna. She has roots here too. She'll tell you the same.