I watched the fireworks on coney island, on a Friday night of August 2015. I sat on the sandy beach with my roommate and many strangers. I felt close to them. We watched and listened without talking. The crowd applauded at the end, in the same way you applaud to sunrise or sunset at a mountain top.
It was my first summer in nyc. I didn't worry about the future, though I had nothing. I needed to pass some exams and find a job, but there was not a single double from me that something might go wrong. I didn’t know how bad it could get, or how good it could get. The bliss of being a blank piece of paper. A random dot looks good on a blank piece of paper, like a minimalistic, intuitive drawing. It’s easy to make it work when there’s less in the picture. The painting is not dead because it’s still young. Hundreds of plausible explanations, solutions. Unpainted. Some fireworks that left no traces in the sky.