Packing and Unpacking

koraI have moved from house to house, borough to borough, state to state, and even country to country. But I have never moved to another country on my own. At age 10 and 14, I lived in the Netherlands and Soviet Russia, respectively, but with my family. This is different. Planning for Hungary, I sharpen to my surroundings.

This afternoon, in the 77th Street subway station (6 line), I heard a kora player. (See the picture above.) Some people walked by as though nothing extraordinary were happening. How can that be? He sounded a little like Toumani Diabaté (who sounds a little like heaven, probably, if it exists):

A little earlier in the day, when heading to a doctor’s appointment, I passed through Central Park and saw a sweet scene with a tire swing. I shot an eight-second video:

I don’t usually relish doctors’ and vets’ appointments, but I am finding a thrill in taking care of things. Even Aengus and Minnaloushe have bonded. (Here they are at the vet’s yesterday, hiding together under a chair.)

at the vet

It seems at first glance that packing is tedium; unpacking, excitement. But that’s not true. The packing and unpacking happen together and depend on each other. When you say goodbye to a place, it spills open. When you open your suitcase, you see where things might go.
After posting this piece, I muted the sound on the tire swing video; it’s better that way.

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