I emerge from my morning Central Park sanctuary, what I call “mind laundry”, waiting at a busy Broadway intersection for the green light.

In the middle of the street, between noisy trucks, buses, and taxis, stands a man utterly entranced by his phone. He scrolls with dangerous devotion, spellbound by whatever urgent matter holds him captive. The red light offers sanctuary, but he remains oblivious to everything beyond his glowing screen.

To my left, a homeless woman approaches, black plastic bag crowning her head, clothes hanging in tatters around strong legs. She sips coffee from a NYC cup with casual grace yet exists in another realm entirely. Her forward motion carries an otherworldly quality, as if guided by invisible currents rather than crosswalk signals.

The light turns green, and traffic surges forward. The phone man jolts awake as trucks barrel toward him, digital drama sidelined by survival instinct. But the woman continues, oblivious to our red light and to the moving cars, stepping directly into them, lost in whatever phantom view guides her.

Then another woman, phone-glazed and trusting, joins this dangerous ballet. She follows the homeless woman into traffic, assuming the masses have elected to cross and also oblivious to the walker’s red light. She remains unaware that her companion operates by different rules, the mysterious logic of true New Yorkers who navigate by inner compass.

I watch, transfixed, as the homeless woman glides across Broadway with supernatural grace. She floats above speeding traffic with inexplicable knowing that she will be safe. And, remarkably, her magic proves real and hypnotic. Cars and trucks slow to match her gait, creating a corridor of protection around both women. Not a single horn sounds. No curses pierce the air.  Her alternate universe exists briefly for everyone in her realm, keeping everyone safe and accommodating.

As they reach the far side unscathed, I’m struck by a profound truth: staying aware in NYC serves not just survival, but witness. Stories unfold constantly—small miracles, urban magic, human poetry in motion.

This city pulses with enchantment on every corner. You just need to look up from your phone to see it.