By Marivir Montebon
Apple Green Creature. The delightful parrot stood out among the rest of the creatures on 66th Street near Lincoln Center. Her caregiver-parent-friend who wore the same apple green color as the parrot was an equally delightful person too. I had to stop for a conversation.
I said, hello, your pet is so beautiful. She smiles, and we introduce ourselves. The parrot waves his leg to me to say hi. They live on the east side, but is taking a stroll to west that beautiful spring day. I say I write and take pictures. So if it is all right? She says, surely. And click, click, click for the model of the day.
Apple Green is 25 years old, and has been a gift to her by a friend when he was a young bird from the wilderness. He eats fruits and greets everyone he meets.
The little girl wants to say hi to the parrot too. And another conversation ensues.
I left them. My day started brightly, but oh my, I couldn’t remember their names.
Subway Poetry. On the train to UWS, here’s this teenage boy who boarded my car and begun to pace back and forth, sharing his poem with mostly cold, weary commuters. He had a heavily African accent that I could not understand the entire poetry. But what I was certain was…he lived on the streets while his mom had to seek ways to support him and his siblings. He ends his poem with a hopeful heart. He spoke eloquently…among the very few of those I admire who ‘performed’ their talents on the train.
The first person to hand him a dollar was a white elderly woman who was closing her eyes during the entire subway ride. Then the younger commuters gave him singles too. I think he got $8 from 8 people. That’s a lot, people aren’t so generous on the train.
Then this black elderly woman called him and asked him to sit down beside her. With a loud voice we all could hear, she said, I admire your poem. Education will bail you out and try to go to school. She gave him a bigger amount the usual singles people give.
I stood up and gave him a single too, and said, you will make a good poet. He said thank you and disembarked on the same station that I did. Then I lost sight of him in the crowd.
Angelic Voices. I was heading towards 5th Avenue, cutting through the 7th Avenue and Avenue of the Americas when I heard very unusually sweet voices that definitely didn’t belong to the bustle of the city. I looked up to my left side, these were four men singing, so softly but powerfully beautiful. It was a way for a posh barber salon to entice people to go inside and get a trim. The manager, I suppose, stood by the glass window and waved his hand to me. I waved back.
I watched and listened for some more minutes. And took pictures too. I can’t help but stop for the amazing.