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Life In Speakers: New York City
By: Zamiur Rahman
New York City is a busy place, and it is commonly seen in the world as “the city that never sleeps.” The streets are filled with sounds from buildings, cars, stands, and the New Yorkers listening to the sounds. In the number of noises the beats of music cannot be missed. On little trips to boroughs out of Queens, music stops only to play once more. The day’s plan called for a small trip to Manhattan. Plans weren’t bigger than going out for Starbuck’s happy hour. Life in high school takes hours of waking up to a sleep cycle the doctor wouldn’t recommend. However, tired mornings are woken up by the temperature of Starbucks hot chocolate. The lines of people and the smile under employee’s hats kept me coming more. The cold spring day complimented me finishing my work; no other day in the week could welcome me more. Music was playing in the beat of a relaxed but happy day, getting ready had become a trip on its own.
Stepping out the door, the music stopped for neighbors beating new plant holes, balls hitting off walls, and dogs barking in wait of trespassers. Walking into the block, a song came from the gates of a house. The song had played many times in dances with family and friends, the day looked newer now. I was going to make new memories to look back on; happy hour took an early start for me. The bus opened its door at the stop; a smiling bus driver turned to see me swipe in. I walked in to passengers sitting down with looks of their own. Seats were open in the back to passengers listening to music in their wait. I dropped to a seat next to a man listening to music others could her. He was listening to “Marry You” by the familiar Bruno Mars. Two stops told me the man was just in happy mood, but on the third stop his hands opened to a small ring. I was just a rider on the bus, but I smiled at the man who smiled back. The stop to the train station let most of the waiting passengers out. Cars went by the block to sound out music from their cultures; New York was the place for everyone. The streets went out of sight to the train station stairs. Music stopped playing in my train ride, but it came back for a bigger memory that wouldn’t leave me. At the Lexington stop, the train doors opened to a people taking time out of their commutes to stand. I couldn’t see what was in the middle of the crowd, but I could hear a beat. The beat didn’t come from speakers, but it came from voices. Happy hour just started so I made my way in the crowd. In the middle were musicians not too aged, playing in front of cases filled with dollar bills and coins. After playing their last song, I asked them why they decided to play here. They told me they were college students, looking to go after music and earn a little money at it. I could see all the faces of train goers just a second ago gathered in one. My life was looking to a new direction, in the little things that happen all you need to do is listen closer.