Wednesday, November 30, 2011

A Bio of a Stranger







A Personal account by Helen Strawberry

I grasped the button of my coat as I cautiously stepped onto the subway. This was it; this is where my adventure begins. My dream grows closer; I get more impatient and nervous. As I took a seat, I looked around; all eyes were on me like I was some strange animal. They knew I was not from New York. While they were dressed in jeans and tee shirts, I was in a large, warm coat with fur. I had not yet adjusted to the temperature, for I had only been in New York for a day. I pulled my green suede bag onto my lap, dug out my smaller sketchbook and began to create what I dream will one day make it hanging on walls of museums. My stomach tied in knots when I imagine my apartment. I am frightened it will be unsuitable for me; I’m afraid it will be cramped and filthy. The subway pulled to a screeching halt; this was my stop. I grabbed my bag, kept my head down as I quickly walked off the subway. I pushed my glasses up as they slid down my nose. I then looked at my surrounding; the city was beautiful, packed with many exotic people. I un-crumbled a piece of paper from my pocket and read “484 Lenox Avenue.”I walked a few blocks. I pushed my way through a crowd of people and stood in front of a large brick building. I looked up and smiled to myself as I opened to doors of the apartment. It was better than I had expected. An older lady, with a comforting smile showed me to my room. When I got to my apartment, she handed me the keys, smiled and said “Enjoy.” I stared at the keys wondering what they can possibly open. I got myself together, slowly I unlocked the door. Before I opened the door I took a deep breath. I was shocked. I closed the door behind me and threw my bag on the bed. I laughed to myself and smiled. I studied the apartment, it was fairly cleaned and the right size. But after I spent a few minutes in my new apartment, I began to feel nostalgic and started to weep. This did not feel like home, how can it ever? The phone rang as I wiped away my tears and answered. “Hello darling” My father said. “Hello” I said trying to not make it seem as if I were upset. The conversation was short; he could not talk for long. My father wished me luck and also told me my items and paintings will be delivered tomorrow. This comforted me, I then imagined my artwork and how they would fit perfectly in my apartment. I grinned and said to myself “I can do this.”

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