The Brooklyn—Walla Walla Express

While moving out to the west coast from Brooklyn, after having lived there for nearly 15 years, I found myself experiencing an interminable series of interactions between Leaving and Arriving that gave me some awareness of the present moment, every moment. Each step of the way, I left, I arrived: Brooklyn, New London, Columbia County, Bloomsburg, Madison, Sherry, Minneapolis, Dickinson, Red Lodge, Missoula, Willowa, Walla Walla. The threads that bound me to Brooklyn pulling and stretching and gradually giving way to threads tethering me westward. The present continuously fueled by images of past and future. backward. FORWARD. ni-hao. DEATH PENALTY. cortelyou. BACK YARD WITH GARDEN. don’t block the box. DRY HEAT. natori. MICRO-BREWS. There was never a clear-cut view in any given moment of when my past with Brooklyn was succeeded by my future in Walla Walla, just a steady awareness of a tension existing in my present, evinced by a procession of images demanding to be acknowledged, refusing to be identified, complying only with their individual chronologies.

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