Brooklyn NY by Martin Cid
Brooklyn NY . When I woke up, I could feel a terrible sense of unease. Where was I? I left the great trees and I could see the kids singing. It’s a clear sky but I can find the solution to this unsolvable problem. People are dancing in the streets and I walk down without direction. A woman is playing with her daughter. There’s no sound, there’s no more pain forever. And a black man tries to sell me a portrait of my own past. I stand up and I can see a poster:
Phoenix Gift Shop… supply human hair, but the doors are closed now. An old woman wearing an old-fashioned dress tries to walk. Trees, trees and more trees dress this borough. I start to run, I start dying… thousands of foreign restaurants with thousands of meats with thousands of wasted faces talking together. This is Flatbush Avenue, this is the end of my dream of brown bricks and lost dreams of shops of nails and hopes. I know now, I am in Brooklyn and I wake up.
How wide is it? I can see a club. May I smoke? Smoking is forbidden, smoking is bad but I have just one dream. I watch people crying and smiling and running and facing opportunities at the other side of the Hudson River. We are now in Maple Street, lines and lines of depressed grey cars. It’s big, everything is big here: people and dejections, ups and hopes, shops and downs, fallings and rises and, of course, trees. Where is Prospect Park? Trees of sound and basketball, trees of peaked caps and shared madness and I fall again. The dream is giant like its giant highways and its giant angels with clear eyes. Somewhere beyond my hopes and the Pizza and Chicken Express is the town that watched me fall. I don’t want to eat now, I don’t want to lose my dreams still, I need to rest now, I need to die and reborn, I need to climb, take on the bus and go again to school and play my last basketball match in the music school of life. There’s an ambulance right there calling for me and I try to escape through the staircase to escape from my nightmare. Am I really here? The black kid pointed me to the exit and I can feel it’s near, I can feel it clear, I can feel the end of the dream I died.
The end of the dream I was born.
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