1. a ferry and a boat on the same path.
Standing at the edge of the walkway that overlooked the East River, I put my elbows on the metal fence and gazed upon the water wondering “is there was anything worth uploading to my ig story so that people will know I left my house today?” Which is true, but it’s also not the reason why no matter where I am in the world I always find myself walking towards the water. For me, looking out onto a body of water is the type of medicine we can only dream about. It’s where the infiniteness of nature meets the eye. It’s where things beyond my control, that could never be in my control are witnessed and contemplated. It’s most enjoyed as a slow, serene, solo scene - speaking for myself, since I can’t speak for others.
I’m standing there watching the waves as they wave to me, thinking what a beautiful name we’ve given them. Amongst the repeating patterns of ripples, I see the ferry coming, traveling from right to left. I crack a smile and let out a sigh of relief, this meant I now had a potential subject matter to film a video of for my ig story that could be perfectly set to the instrumental intro of a taylor swift song. I’m only half joking. I half joke a lot. You’ll get used to it.
A bird flies across my eye line from right to left, just like the ferry. Instinctively, I trace its flutterings until it catches up with the ferry and then flies beyond my frame. The bird flys and flys, until I lose sight of it and it’s back to being just the ferry crossing the river.
The moment resonates with me and I don’t know why initially. There was nothing unusual about it. Nothing stood out. I continue to look out at the ferry, I begin to feel all the people the ferry is carrying. I can see distant, blurred lines that make up their many shapes onboard. I can only imagine all the variations of human that have been brought together because of that ferry. I think about how brave all those people are to put the hands of their existence into a stranger’s space of orbit.
The bird flies back into frame and the thought disappears from my mind.
With the presence of the bird, a new thought comes. I begin to think about the ferry and the bird. Not as two separate and indistinct words. But as two opposing entities existing at the same time, as motion parallels in a universe. They’re both in forward motion, moving in the same direction, traveling towards the same thing, something beyond us. But one is small and nimble and free. The bird flies. And one is big and heavy and a group responsibility. The ferry carries. I think about how the ferry is fast compared to taking a subway, but slow compared to the bird. How the bird is free to act as they please, doing cirles in the sky, but does it alone. And how the ferry brings people on a journey together but by doing so, bounds them to the same course. The people on the ferry must agree to getting to the same destination at the same time as everyone else on the ferry, but they also get to enjoy the company of one another as they do. This is even sold to them as a “perk.”
I watch as the two opposites travel in unison. Together. For what feels like a brief moment for humans but either a second or a lifetime for the bird.
The bird does as the bird wants, I think to myself. It takes comfort being in union with the ferry, knowing that it brings an energetic warmth to the ferry passengers even if just for a brief moment. They exist as mirrorrs for one another but instead of seeing themselves, they see their inverse. Both, seeing the other side while being the other side. The bird can speed past the ferry in the flap of a wing and sometimes it does. But they can also choose to move at the same pace as the ferry.
The bird does a u-turn and nosedives into the waters left behind by the ferrys passing.
I am reminded - the bird does as the bird wants. The bird isn’t shackled by any sort of rules and regulations or restrictions, not like its ferry counterpart. The ferry was built for restrictions: weight, capacity, admission, etc. The bird has complete freedom, the ferry was built on freedom. The ferry doesn’t know that freedom isn’t a thing that is built, it is a thing that is felt. The ferry has to stay its course. The bird can both go up, down, back in time and forward through space - flying past and revisiting things as needed. The bird knows the beauty is in getting there, not arriving there.
It appears the ferry is getting ahead, just when the bird flies up and out. And soars toward the ferry.
It’s easy for the bird to find itself either behind or ahead of the ferry. It’s hard for the bird to be held to the same patterns of movement as the shackled ferry. The bird does as the bird wants and the bird wants to be a bird about its movements: free. Fast, slow. Forward, backward. Any way the birds pleases, it goes. The ferry, on the other hand, travels only as the ferry can travel. And the ferry can’t travel fast with all those people onboard and it can’t travel slow with all those people on and it can’t travel backwards because it has to travel forward to get all those people to where they’re going. The ferry’s responsibility is getting there, the bird just has to go.
They both exit frame and I’m wondering why being the bird makes me want to cry and beam with pride at the same time.
I long to be on the ferry but I can’t imagine not being a bird. I know I have to go to where I’m going but I have no idea where I’m going and I’m not sure I ever have to arrive but I know that I want to.