anyway, for one of the pieces in the final performance of my hip hop performance class, i had to write and recite a short monologue. the piece was called love/travels. i’ve always been better at writing than speaking, but it was nice to get it out there:
i was practically born and raised on the seven train (back when it was still purple). i started at the 90th street elmhurst stop, then moved east, a necessary shift that meant riding to the end of the line to main street, flushing. of course i associate home with sights and smells and tastes, but underneath it all is a perpetual sense of being in transit, because the momentum doesn’t stop just because you have arrived.