It’s a chilly grey day here, with flags whipping in the wind, and the sidewalks quiet and sparsely populated. I love Manhattan on a Sunday morning. It’s like a different city altogether. Wrapped in on itself, in a private mood, people going about their lives, quietly, sensibly, doing nice Sunday things.<\/p>\n
Sometimes on Sunday mornings, I wake up early, take the bus into town, just so I can meander through the empty streets, the vendors setting out the flowers, or the fruit, random people jogging by, most storefronts locked up behind the grilles. I love the quiet. Meandering empty yellow cabs driving up 8th Avenue. In a weird way, it’s peaceful.<\/p>\n
Went to Easter Mass at my church on 36th Street. I love it there. It’s one of those old cavernous urban Catholic churches squeezed in between storefronts. You walk through the wooden front doors and suddenly find yourself in a vast echoing space, you can’t believe how large it is, judging from how cramped it appears from outside. I’ve been going to St. Mary’s for about a year now, and I really like it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It’s a chilly grey day here, with flags whipping in the wind, and the sidewalks quiet and sparsely populated. I love Manhattan on a Sunday morning. It’s like a different city altogether. Wrapped in on itself, in a private mood, … Continue reading