That’s what I’ve been doing, and don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to experience the subway, but I would’ve been denied all this sightseeing if I were underground. I walked down Fifth Avenue, passing the entrance to the Central Park Zoo, seeing the famous Plaza Hotel, and Rockefeller Center, where I’ll absolutely be visiting in December to see that massive Christmas tree. It’s been really exciting to glimpse so many iconic buildings in real life, but also lonely. I’m looking forward to experiencing all of this with Scarlett and all the new friends we’ll make along the way. I’m sure I’ll see things differently.
Perspective is everything. When I’m modeling, I am who I am, but how I appear depends on who’s behind the camera. Some photographers will find my strong and flattering angles. Others won’t. Which shots I personally prefer ultimately depends on my perspective. But perspectives shift over time too—years, months, weeks, days, hours, even minutes. Earlier today—though I guess technically tonight, as I jumped time zones—I was sure that nothing could be more beautiful than being on that plane and watching New York come into focus. I was wrong. Nothing is more beautiful than my first glimpse of Times Square.
In the sky, everything below looks like a world for insects.
On the streets, I’m the insect.
The buildings are towering, and I find myself leaning my head back like when I’m modeling because I love the pop of my Adam’s apple and the stretch of my long neck. But this angle isn’t to make me look good right now. It’s to appreciate the beauty around me.
I stopped taking pictures blocks ago because these cell phone cameras aren’t doing the city justice. Scarlett will arrive in the morning, and we can use her real camera to document our new lives. For now, I’m remaining present.
That first step into Times Square is overwhelming, admittedly, because there’s so much life happening from every corner. Someone tries selling me bootleg DVDs of movies that are still in theaters. Shops and restaurants are so closely packed together that I wouldn’t even know where to start. I record a quick video of the Death-Cast hourglasses on the mega screen for Scarlett, though we’ll probably find better-quality footage on YouTube later. I get distracted by these two men shoving each other, one arguing to settle their debts in cash before the world begins ending tomorrow; he’s one of those people. I can’t believe I escaped all those conspiracy theorists back home to immediately find one in Times Square, but that’s the beauty of this city, right? New York is this nexus for everyone in the world. Including Arizonan models wanting to take their life to the next level, dreaming of their faces on these billboards for all to see.
I walk deeper into the Square—is that what New Yorkers call it? I need to learn fast—and pass someone in an Iron Man costume as he talks to someone mostly dressed up as Elmo, the massive head on the ground as if decapitated as the woman smokes a cigarette. I love this city with my whole heart already. I can’t help but sneak a picture of that for Scarlett too, in case that’s a one-time sighting.
I keep going and stumble onto some teen on a stage. At first I’m expecting him to sing a song into his mic, but instead he’s speaking with this haunting sadness about the brain aneurysms in the family and the dread of dying from one himself. It’s heavier than I expected on a party that’s been billed as a celebration of life, but then I find the sign that reads Tell Your Death-Cast Story, and everything makes sense. That stage is for people talking about how this service will change their lives.
It can’t hurt to listen in on why people are willing to believe Death-Cast.
There aren’t any more seats on these red glass bleachers, but I don’t mind finding a place to stand. There’s a spot next to this beautiful Black girl with incredible style and this cute white boy whose curls are creeping out from under his baseball cap. The boy looks like he’s having a hard time keeping it together, wiping the tears from his cheek.
He must have a huge heart.
Orion