I like places with wide sidewalks where there is a companionable distance even when you walk two abreast and onto which people's lawns spill... But even more than sidewalks, I like dirt paths where you slip when it rains and you always wind up muddy. Though you may walk them like a log perched above a river- one at a time, teetering on the brink of slipping to your doom- there is adventure with each footfall and the way you walk brings you into any fantasy world of your choosing- whether you hop along, skip or slink...the world is transformed.

In desperate hope I go and search for her in all the corners of my room; I find her not.
My house is small and what once has gone from it can never be regained.
But infinite is thy mansion, my lord, and seeking her I have come to thy door.
I stand under the golden canopy of thine evening sky and lift my eager eyes to thy face.
I have come to the brink of eternity from which nothing can vanish- no hope, no happiness, no vision of a face seen through tears.
Oh, dip my emptied life into that ocean, plunge it into the deepest fullness. Let me for once feel that lost sweet touch in the allness of the universe.

-Rabindranath Tagore

I walk along sidewalks and realize how dead they are to me when I am alone. Sidewalks all lead somewhere- but I've never had a destination but friendship... A sidewalk is a perfect backdrop for our created world: but alone, I put on my headphones and walk along briskly- trying to get away from all the superficial reality that the storefronts and parading insecurities present. I want to know everything and nothing at the same time. I want to ask about someone and have them tell me their deepest truth- I don't want to have to wade through miles of piled on bullshit to get there.

I stare into my eyes in the mirror and wish they were yours- wish you were here and we were talking freely of every thought that might fill our heads. But those days are gone and I am left with the compartmentalized friendships of the Japanese. Do a dancing friend, a soccer friend and a dinner party friend add up to a whole person? ...a whole relationship? Why does no one here seem to have anything to say?

Sidewalk Pizza

The other day, I was sitting outside of Tonelli's on the northeast corner of 26th and 2nd eating a personal Red Pizza (tomato sauce, olive oil, and oregano--no cheese). It wasn't very good. It came in 4 pieces, which I cut again into halves (making 8 all together). I dipped the slices into the little bowl of extra virgin olive oil that was left over from my bread basket appetizer.

I was in the process of eating my second slice when a voice called to me from the sidewalk: "You gonna eat all that?" At first, I wasn't paying attention. I was too intent on my cheese-less pizza to think about the people walking down the street. He asked again, "You gonna eat all that?" I looked up and realize that I was being spoken to. Too confused to know what to say, I just laughed. "I'll give you $5," said the stranger on the other side of the restaurant's patio baracade. "What?" I had been caught off guard and honestly didn't know why this guy was talking to me. "They don't sell by the slice. If you aren't going to eat all that, I'll give you $5 for 2 slices."

Now, I don't usually sell my food to people on the street, and I am not one to give up part of my meal, but this was an offer I couldn't refuse. The pizza had cost me $10, which meant that I was getting some money back, but who did this guy think he was anyway? Coming over and bothering me while I was trying to havea relaxing, quiet meal? Typical of men, always doing what they want. Moreover, what if I was going to eat it all myself? Maybe I'm hungry. And he hadn't asked anyone else sitting outside, just me. Sketchy character, if I do say so.

Nonetheless, I took the money. Hey, $5 can go a long way when you are a poor graduate student. Handing him 2 slices on an extra napkin, I pocketed the $5 and finish my last piece. All in a days work: ate some lunch; made some cash. Maybe I should go to that restaurant more often. Next time I'll order the whole pizza and give him half for $10. That's a good deal if you ask me.

Sidewalk Philosophy

Painted in white on the side of a blue, wooden construction board outside the 26th Street dorm:

"Peoplearepeoplebecauseofpeople"

(People are People because of People)

When one afternoon you hesitate while reaching for the telephone's black reciever, where would the words you wanted to say come from and where would they go?

-Shuntaro Tanikawa

Princess

It's 10:00 at night, and I am walking home from the NYU gym after a grueling pool speed workout. Second Avenue is dead, as usual, at this time of night. I make the right-hand turn onto 23rd at the light by the fruit market and head eastward from 3rd. At the next light, bang a left across from the old, run-down supermarket and make my way three block north to 26th. Sporting a grey Dickinson College sweatshirt and baggy, red training pants, I shuffle onward regretting the extra peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie I had after stuffing my face at dinner.

Tall, dark, and slender, wearing thin, ash-colored sweatpants and a green T-shirt he strides gracefully in front of me. I see a little, white, fluffy object tucked under his left arm. A teddy bear? A doll? As I approach, pacing along side him, I see that he is gently holding a little dog. This beautiful man with a lap dog! Without meaning to, I start to giggle. He looks at me and smiles.
"Sorry," I say.
"It's OK."
"That's the cutest thing I've ever seen," I coo.
"Thank you," he responds, as he laughs.

His voice sings an African tune, but from where I do not know. The dog shifts from under his arm and looks at me. She, I presume, is wearing a little, red doggy sweater. A doggy sweater? This is crazy! I laugh again.

"What's her name," I ask.
"Princess."
"That's adorable! Is she yours or your girlfriends?"
"Mine."
"I've never seen a man with such a cute dog," I say.

Bad Alex! Stop those naughty thoughts. Actually, it was an honest question, at the time; but then I thought, how stereotypical. What if he is gay? I shouldn't assume that men don't like little dogs, too.

"She usually walks along next to me," he protests. "But she's tired from before. Watch. She follows me"

He places the little, white fluff on the sidewalk and slowly backs away. "Come on!" He coaxes. Princess doesn't move. She looks up at her owner, confused, and sits down in her place. "Come on!" He says again, but she just sniffs the air. I begin to worry. We have gotten rather far up the sidewalk.

"She won't run into the road, right?"
"No, she's good."
"Come on!" He says for the last time.

The little dog skips over to us, wagging her tail. "Good girl," he says, chuckling, and wedges her back under the crook of his arm.

We walk along side-by-side in silence, as we reach 25th Street. Two young kids come around the corner and run right into the man with the dog. Looking up they screech: "Oh, doggy!" I see the white fluff shake. She's scared. The man looks not amysed, but the kids start jumping up and down trying to touch her. Princess snuggles closer to her father's side. "Ok kids," he warns. "Leave her alone." I laugh at the scene, but regret it when I see the man's face. Luckily, two women appeared and called the kids away.

"People need to teach their children good manners," he says disappointedly.
"I know," I respond. Not knowing what to say. Lame.
"Unbelievable," he adds, shaking his head.

We reach the corner of 26th Street. I stop and turn to my sidewalk companion before parting.

"I'm going this way."
"It was nice talking with you," he offers genuinely.
"Have a nice night with Princess," I contribute, for lack of anything better to say.
"What's your name?" He begs, extending the hand not supporting Princess.
"Alex. Yours?"
"Saleem. Nice to have met you, Alex." He gives me a friendly smile.
"Thanks. Same to you." I smile back.
"Good night," we both say as we go our separate ways.

Saleem, or is it Salim? I ponder this on my way across the street and to the dorm. Passing the housing projects situated on my street, I think of what I just experienced: A late night stroll up 2nd Avenue with his little dog, Princess. Saleem. Random.