There is nothing quite like a moment alone when no one else is around and there’s no one else to answer to. The house or apartment is otherwise empty and the music you play is not open for discussion or interruption.
The weather outside is unobjectionable and fine but more to the point; nothing is imposing, and for the moment, the only thing pressing is the moment we’ve chosen for self-care and personal preservation. 

I was thinking of a song last night. I thought about the intro of a bluesy riff that began with the words, “I am an old woman named after my mother. My old man was another child that’s grown old.”
Then I thought about the next line which is, “If dreams were thunder, lightning was desire, this old house would have burned down a long time ago.”

I have never been sure what happens to time. I only know that it moves fast when you wish things could slow down. I know that it was just yesterday that I was so much younger. The world was a different place to me. The City was like a romance novel with wild, unexpected turns. There was action and suspense. There was drama and tragedy, comedy, thrillers and times when Central Park held a different sense of dignity to me.