It’s only 6 in the morning and already Manhattan is in a frenzy. Cars honking, buses groaning, and joggers zooming past like they’ve got to beat the stock market before breakfast. I do my morning walk beside the East River, wondering whether this city ever sleeps, or if sleep here is just a coffee break between meetings.
And then I see it.
A pedestrian bridge.
Not grand like Brooklyn’s or flashy like Williamsburg’s, just an old, weathered crossing, quietly offering another way. Curiosity pulls me. I start walking. Halfway through, there’s a hump. Not the kind you hop over and forget, but one that makes you question your knees and the number of vanilla ice-creams you had last night.
But I make it over.
And suddenly — silence.
I’m on Randall’s Island.
The same river that just moments ago carried the roar of New York’s relentless pace now carries the gentle lap of water against stone. Ducks waddle past like they own the place. A lone bird tweets — not on Twitter, but in real life. And my shoulders, which had been somewhere near my ears thanks to the stress of trying to survive the city, drop into a natural place.
And I breathe.
Truly breathe.
“Why can’t life be like this?” I mutter, staring at the still waters. And then I realise — it can.
This island wasn’t in the middle of the Pacific or some Himalayan hideaway. It was right there, just a hump away from the chaos. A short, deliberate walk, a little effort, and suddenly I’m in another world.
Isn’t that the same with our minds?
You see, most of us live on the Manhattan side of our brains — traffic, tension, to-do lists, texts we forgot to reply to, and that one email that passive-aggressively began with “As per my last message…”
We’re always on. And exhausted.
But inside each of us is a Randall’s Island — a place of peace, calm, and clarity. The trick is to get there.
So what’s the hump on your bridge?
Worry?
Anxiety?
Bitterness from that WhatsApp group message from your cousin in 2018?
Humps don’t disappear just because we wish them away. You have to walk over them. Step by step. Sometimes it means letting go. Sometimes forgiving. Sometimes it means switching off your phone — yes, I said it.
But cross it, and what awaits is that same peace I found this morning. You’ll still see the chaos — you’re not running away from life. You’re just no longer dragged into its panic.
So, dear reader, find your bridge. Walk your hump. And discover the island in your head.
Because sometimes, peace isn’t found in those flashy cars, nor the speed they can drive, but maybe what we need is an old pedestrian bridge in our minds, that helps us relax on the other side..!