I sit here in Washington Square Park in the late afternoon with my iPod. I love this park. It’s the location where one of my all-time favorite movies was filmed: Searching for Bobby Fischer.
When I first entered the grounds, I was changing up my playlist to listen to something a little bit different—I wanted something a little less…sonorous; after all, I was leaving the bustling streets and thoroughfares. This is when the thought occurred to me: why shouldn’t I listen to the soundtrack for one of my most treasured movies? One which had had some major scenes filmed right here?
As I called up the soundtrack by James Horner, I approached the men playing chess at the permanently-set tables. The familiar notes began to play, and as I watched the well-known landscape and scenes before me, I found myself completely blown away.
This park is suddenly no longer just a place to me; it now carries a whole other dimension to it; like sunlight so someone who’s been trapped inside all day, like a drowning man’s first gasp of cool, fresh oxygen into hungered lungs.
It is as if I am more here than I really am. This is one of the most powerful moments I have experienced while out here on this trip. Even now as I write this, the pigeons move about my feet, the sunlight patterns the ground and chess boards, and the players watch over their matches intently as their hands fly to their clocks and pieces. During this entire process the projector plays the film—not only in my head, but all around me
I am the movie.
This is life.
I find that as I write all of these things down that this moment is elusive, it refuses to be penned down with words—I try to find the right phrases and expressions which will describe what this is and how it feels, but they are slow in coming.