The Silence of Brooklyn

I emerged from underground and was instantly greeted by silence. Silence – a sensation I hadn’t experienced for several weeks. Even when isolated in the solitude of Central Park or on those lucky Fridays when my suitemates have class and I’m alone there is still noise. Within the serene classroom sirens and horns constantly blare through unwelcoming cracks in the windows. Sound squeezes its way in and invades the sacred space designated for concentration and academic advancement. It seems that noise didn’t get the memo that school is supposed to be relatively quiet. But Brooklyn, that’s another story.

The first thing I noticed as two of my roommates and I began walking around is just how peaceful it was. There is some sound but there isn’t chaos. You can look across the water at Manhattan and see the tall skyscrapers and hectic lives but you can’t hear the noise. If you close your eyes you can picture where 71st and 3rd might be but it’s hard to fathom the craziness. The hustle and bustle. The screeching brakes on the M102. The infinite conversations going on. The impatient pedestrians who never wait for a walk sign. They were all missing as I casually strolled down the empty streets. In Williamsburg the only noise I heard was the sound of footsteps as they meandered down open sidewalks. When you look across the river, you see a different world. A mere 5,989 feet separates these two places that have few things in common and yet, most of the people over there return to their homes over here at night.

Everyone has somewhere to be but no one is in a hurry. That’s one of the biggest differences. The cost of living is another huge thing that separates these two places. A soda in Brooklyn costs a dollar, in the city? An arm and a leg. But all hyperboles aside it does cost three times Brooklyn’s price.

Strangely enough I found myself missing the noise associated with Manhattan; after a few hours the silence became unsettling. When you’re used to falling asleep to the tune of an ambulance it’s hard to be awake in quietness. Following such a calm day I was ecstatic to hear the L-Train rattling down the tracks. As it squealed to a stop and the doors separated it was like Manhattan was spreading its arms open and saying: I missed you, welcome home. I smiled as I stepped on and found a seat. Brooklyn was a fantastic place but I belonged where a soda costs three dollars and you can never be in complete silence. I belong in Manhattan. After getting off at Union Square and transferring to the Five I finally got off at my stop thirty minutes later. I emerged from underground and was instantly greeted by noise. Noise – I couldn’t be happier.