I came across this the other day. I have not seen the current Romeo and Juliet on Broadway, but this cool wall of padlocks (left by anyone who feels like leaving one) caught my eye. I stood and looked at it for a long while, reading the messages, looking at the pictures shellacked on the little locks. I don’t know what it has to do with the show, although of course I thought of the quote in the title line, I know it has something to do with this, but whatever it all means, it’s a beautiful little gritty display, an audience participation display, like the wall of dreams or the Tiles For America. That last one was recently torn down, and I’m too upset about it to talk about it. I’m sure the tiles were saved, blah blah blah, but sell your positive spin to someone who feels like buying. That display meant something to me, certainly, but also to that neighborhood. It was also right across the street from St. Vincent’s, which was also just torn down. I hate that corner now. I’m not over it. Never will be. Moving on.
But in these busy cold jam-packed days, charging through the theatre district, on my way somewhere else, coming upon that wall of locks was one of the gifts of the day. I had a good time communing with other people’s dreams and hopes and messages.
