In the flicker of dawn, when morning light drenched the beams with turmeric golden light, that was when I walked the bridge. During these times, the bridge reminded me of a foil wrapped gold bar that I could unpeel as the rays of sun shifted their light along the path of my walk.
It was peaceful in the morning. The regular city flutter was always there, but it was subdued – almost like we were all still asleep, and only a few special people knew to wake with the light. A light honk from a banana yellow taxicab, a strident wave from the wind, the lapping of the water below.
The air was brittle this morning as I stepped out onto the bridge landing. Sometimes I just stared at this wonder in front of me. The sheer magnitude of this structure, created by us – mere humans. What a gift, to have this symbol of New York at my footsteps, a nod to the past and the future of our city.
Walking with rhythmic intention, right left, right left. I caught the hint of espresso in my nose, followed by a wave of what could only be the smell of New York City trash. This was always the juxtaposition of the city – the beauty with the beast and underbelly of the city.