For the first time, there I was. Standing in the middle of Manhattan's Madison Avenue. Flanked by rows and rows of towering buildings, all cultivated through decades of advertising greatness. Wondering what stories the infamous street quietly harbored.
Throughout Manhattan, commerce is king and appearance is everything. Souls are stirred and whims are encouraged. You could be anybody. Or nobody. Shifting, blending or reinventing at will.
In the city, anonymity is inevitable. Off the grid while at the center of it. Alone in the crowd. Solitarily connected.
I could feel the city's energy. It was a rumbling undercurrent, tugging at my sleeve like an impatient child. A constant stream of culture and curiosity, haphazardly forcing my gaze.
The city lives outside the walls of their small-yet-expensive apartments. I imagine life in the thick of that advertising epicenter. How the greats toiled away through the night—likely finding camaraderie with the city that, like them, never slept.
Like most things pitted against imagination, the dream is better than the reality—though the reality is an amazing sea of inspiration. It's really about clinging to what the city famously represents—the dream of endless possibilities. I'll happily keep that with me. Right where I am.
[ I will be following up with some posts inspired by the 99u conference.]
|In the middle of Manhattan. In the middle of Madison Avenue. In the middle of the day.|