sometimes i wonder if i should pack up and leave buffalo forever; other times i think i should stay and let it burn through me, that i should vandalize it with my fingerprints, catch its crumbling buildings, reraise its falling skyline, become a part of its skyline. and sometimes i just want to shake the dust of this crummy little town off my feet, and see the world. sometimes i feel like this is unquestionably, irrevocably my home, and other times that this home will always be full of strangers.
as an exile, i am unanchored. as a citizen, i am part of the human mortar that holds this city up.
it is either one or the other.
it is always one or the other.
i am standing on the bridge wondering what have i changed? and what change will i make? and right now, the answer to both questions is nothing, and i realize it is because i have been standing on the bridge all this time.
there is a false sense of freedom in the ability to deliberate, but it is in the action of choice that freedom is effected.
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2 comments:
Phil,
I think you have managed to do the impossible with this post, which is to describe Buffalo, and the relationship one has with this city. I live in Minneapolis right now, and I am always trying to articulate my frustration and relationship with the city. Its like on the one hand the city is my home, and I will defend it to the death (right or wrong), but on the other hand I get so frustrated whenever I come back because people just always seem to talk and complain without ever acting on their frustration. In any event, I think your metaphor with the bridge is very apt. I could not have phrased it any better.
Please, keep writing!
-Ed
Ed -- glad to see that maybe i'm on the right track about buffalo. strange city. and i can't help loving it either. nice to know i have a compatriot who feels the same way.
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