Philharmonic Love

I had been in New York long enough to feel suffocated by it; the city was a crowded galaxy suffused with light from dying stars and the clamor of colliding refuse. Here the streets were filled with heaven’s chattel, empty-stomached and hungry for air to fill the space. But there was no air or space here. For that reason, rooms like this hall were sacred—here we didn’t choke on the sound of the car horns and beggar’s ballads, here the exciting and enticing dolor dissolved, we were wholly alone in the universe. The big felt small and the small felt big. Your eyes closed entirely without fear and you left your doors unlocked.