July 2, 2016

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July 2, 2016


I boarded the N train at the 31st Street station in Astoria.  It was a gorgeous fall day in New York City in the fall of 1994.  I had moved to the city a few months before.
I watched the Manhattan skyline appear to my right suddenly.  I had not thought about Ceremonies for some time.  I had gotten lost in all the glories of the city: the people, the buildings, the parks, the water, the politics, the art….
Emerging into Times Square, I wandered down Broadway.  I thought about Ceremonies.  Most of what I had written over the years had been truthful, that is, what had happened.  But I realized now that fiction was a combination of mix of truth and imagination.  Sometimes it was all one or the other; sometimes a blend.  It was time to get back to writing Ceremonies.  I came to Herald Square and perched on a bench, watching the passersby.

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