I find it fascinating that memories and senses can be so strongly linked–like how a certain cologne smell can remind me of my dad, or how a song that I haven’t heard in years, can send me traveling back to a single moment in time. Last week I was wandering around the mall, when Coldplay’s “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall” started to play. Though I have the CD in my car and on my iPod, I haven’t listened to it since I left New York. It instantly reminded me of one of my favorite days, which surprisingly didn’t involve the New York City lights, or booming nightlife–but the serene quiet of an empty subway traveling through Brooklyn, and a beach void of people.
It was a notably warm November day in the city and I decided to make the hour and a half trip down to Coney Island, by myself. It was one of those days where I felt the need to be alone with my thoughts. The subway was void of bodies, and I sat with my legs outstretched across the seats, looking out the window at the small Brooklyn streets, while Coldplay’s Mylo Xyloto rang through my headphones. When the subway finally came to a stop at Stillwell Avenue, I realized I was completely alone. The sun was slowly setting on the breathtaking horizon, and the few others visiting the beach were making their departure. I walked along the shore and admired seashells like an eager kid, before taking a seat on a dry rock to watch the breath of the ocean rise and fall. It was, without a doubt, one of the best days I’ve had in a long time. It’s hard to listen to Coldplay without missing New York, but the songs will always remind me of the amazing days I spent there.