Stephen Mejias

As usual, I wandered.

In this case, I wandered onto the F train car which happened to be owned by Bose. Or so it seemed. Judging from the many Granny Smith-colored advertisements lining the dirty walls, Bose had, at the very least, been here. New standards, lifelike sounds, images of attractive young men and women staring off into deepest space, apparently seduced into some euphoric music coma. What are they looking at? What beauties lie beyond the boundaries of these Granny Smith ads — Herds of wild bison tip-toeing across Yosemite?; The secret to the art of crossover design?; The seven keys to love?

I'd be getting off at York, the first stop into Brooklyn. It wouldn't be long at all. The ride wouldn't offer me enough time to figure it out. Whatever was beyond those ads would stay beyond those ads.

***

People tend to ask me for directions, it seems, wherever I may be. Perhaps I have the look of someone who knows where he is. I'm not certain of this.

Upon becoming acquainted with York Street and stopping to contemplate a green garbage can, a woman asked, "Which way is Water Street?"

"I don't know."

Soon, of course, I would find out. Simply by taking a little walk. Ah, here is Water Street. Which way is that woman?

***

I had some time, so I wandered, remembering what it feels like to have time and to wander. I walked down towards the water until, blocked by a fence, I couldn't get any closer. I turned back and right and right again, until I came to an opening in the fence. Someone, it seemed, had set up a listening room. A listening room with a view. I thought you might like to see it.

***

I often find new places immediately beautiful. I'm sure this is at least partly why I'm so fond of traveling. Looking at this particular place, I quickly fell in love. Old steel tracks, like thin veins in its cobblestone skin, serve as reminders of a very different time. Factories full of trash live side-by-side with studio spaces covered in art. Weeds grow from the sides of buildings; they just don't care. Factories and graffiti and Pedro's Spanish American restaurant. What a wonderful, colorful place to live and work. Wrapped by bridges and red bricks, and all this new life, and all these old memories, everything is a beautiful photograph.

***

Not at all far from here, only moments away from here, over some potholes and cobblestones, John DeVore is designing a new loudspeaker.