Following a painful separation with a romantic interest in summer 2022, I was lost in life – The sensation of having the world ripped from underneath me, all hobbies and passions became less enjoyable to the point of boredom; Seeing friends was a rare instance rather than the norm, and most days were spent stuck in my own head, wondering what I did wrong between that past crush and I. With little else to keep me occupied, I found myself wandering the streets and subways of New York, either walking around Brooklyn or taking the train into Manhattan – No plan, no destination, and my thoughts being the only company I kept, I was open to anything and everything I encountered in my pursuit for some kind of peace. While I may not have discovered serenity, I did find something else just as important: The people and art pieces of everyday life, while not solutions or salves on their own, went quite a ways in keeping me rooted to the present – Something I’m still grateful for to this day. If possible, I’d like to talk about some of these people, as well as showcase the graffiti and artistic pieces I discovered in my down-trodden travels.

During the times I’d decide to walk and grieve my way towards Prospect Park to waste the day, I had become acquainted with a man I called ‘Cap;’ Not his real name, having never bothered to ask, I instead used this moniker due to the baseball cap he’d always wear no matter the weather. I would pass by this figure now and then, stopping by to say hello due to some forgotten circumstance that made us both great each other;’ He’d see me from down the street, raising his arm in greeting and asking if I had any spare change, on account of his disabled leg making it difficult to work. We’d chat about politics, his extremely low-rent apartment, the numerous ‘girlfriends’ he claimed to have, and anything that caught his fancy until I deemed it time to leave due to how long it took to return home from the park. While never knowing him personally, I couldn’t help but grow fond of the man as I continued to pass by him, as having someone happy to see you after a long day is always welcome; And although I don’t journey to Prospect Park anymore nor see him when I do, I’ll forever be grateful for the conversations and companionship he gave me whenever we met.

Of the many train-rides I had taken from Brooklyn into Manhattan, several of them have involved conversation with all sorts of people: Performers, singers, migrants, vagrants; All are remembered one way or another, but a certain individual has managed to stay in my mind after all this time. Geoff was, as he told me, homeless: After a turn or two of bad luck, he found himself enlisted for public housing, waiting on the word that he’ll finally have somewhere to return to when the day is done. Despite having been on this list for a good year or two, he stated that those homeless with STDs are often put into housing first on account of their disease; Geoff mentioned that he didn’t hold a grudge to them, however, and he had nothing but respect for those fighting both HIV and homelessness. In the mean time, he had been fighting his own battle with an organ-eating disease – Something that he was hoping to get surgery on before it was too late. Geoff said that the removal of a kidney might help get rid of the source, but it came with a big risk of death – One that he was willing to take. I though it interesting how he sympathised with others in his condition rather than condemn them, considering that a home was on the line, and told him as much – He stated that once you’ve walked a mile in his shows, there’s really no room for bitterness. He and I talked a bit more about life until his stop arrived, in which I gave him some cash and told him to take care of himself. I never saw him again, but I hope that both house and recovery were quick to him.

Some time after the break-up with this past crush, I visited the Tompkins Square Park in Manhattan’s East Village, having once made it a regular spot for travel on account of my crush inviting me out nearby often. While I met quite a few people of interest in that place, I keep recalling one in particular due to their appearance and attitude towards me during the only time we’ve met. Taking a seat at a bench circling the park’s central clearing, I witnessed a young man in a white leather jacket prepare a guitar and amp beside the large tree nearby; Hooking up a mic-stand as well, he began to play long, high notes that carried throughout the space, accompanied by singing that was raw and surely personal.

After the performance, I approached and thanked him for the music, and we began to chat about his recent passions and what’s led to him to playing in the middle of a New York park. With guitar and singing being a recent endeavour, he had been spending far more time creating art in the hopes of making it big; In that moment, he reached into a cart next to him and showed me several pieces he’d been working on, talking about his process and what he wanted to accomplish through his creativity. Captivated, I asked if I could donate to his cause, and in doing so received one of my most treasured belongings (shown here). On the back of the piece he signed his tag, along with ‘To Flynn:’ A pseudonym I use when meeting people in public for the first time. The young man and I parted ways, wishing each other well in our wherever life took us next, and I returned home to pin his artwork up in my room; It’s still there today, a monument to how a bit of kindness towards him resulted in a treasured memory to me. While it took several months until I could go about life in a decent manner, what I observed and encountered then made me deeply humble and appreciative, always thankful for the people and pieces I came across during my lowest. I hope that, with patience and pleasant greetings, we’re all able to help one another out – Sometimes, all it takes is a walk through the park and asking someone the time of day.