I looked up at the giant twenty foot tall flat black and white nearly naked beautiful people staring down at me. Was I jealous? Why was I looking? Was it their lack of modesty and overt obvious sexual pleasure, right there, right above me on Canal Street?
No, actually I felt more offended for this intimacy exploited.
It was then I realized they weren’t there for me, no, they were there for others; for the people that would covet their image and buy their underwear.
Now I am older and ok with the fact that lots of things are not for me, not made for me, created for me, nor meant for me. Not religion, not Hollywood, not politics and not advertising. I just need to remember not to be offended.
I look back and I laugh.
