“Commerce. The smell of salt and oil as I watch the mighty ships unload their cargoes from around the world. The grease of Capitalism. Those cranes, as big as midtown skyscrapers, that is what the harbor is about, that’s what it means to me.”
She waited for the unasked question
Watching the statue, giant, but dwarfed by the towering cranes, she remembered her grandparents and their stories of the old country, the village bombed out of existence by forces too large to comprehend and the story of their escape.
She sniffed the breeze.
A gull, riding the wind, cried.
“Freedom,” she whispered.
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