The day Michael Jackson died I got to speak to my ballet teacher for the first time. we usually nod or smile but yesterday when I came to the studio the word about MJ's mysterious/ surprising death was just out and we happened to be in the same spot. At this historic moment, everyone, fan or no fan, needs to share, or ask something. These are the moments when human connection triumphs over the ordinary manners and boundaries tend to evaporate.

People got out of class, they have been perspiring for the last 90 minutes in a closed studio and mixed messages have started to drip in. "Farrah Fawcett died!!", "No! Michael Jackson just died". "What? No way!...Farrah AND Michael?", "Is that related?" Odd.
And then I heard the sentence "Michael Jackson is dead" in Japanese, Korean, Chinese and Italian over and over again.

Two hours later, I was back in the outside world. I couldn't really decide how I feel about this, but I knew something big occurred. It smelled like a moment of "where were you when". Especially if you're an 80's kid. Good day for News Papers.
Passing by 19th St. between Broadway and 5th, I hear an unfamiliar song playing. I think it's coming from a store but when I look closer I see an old bulky tape recorder, no one near it, just a few bags of empty tin-cans, trash, some newspapers covering the half stair. I couldn't tell what song it was, but it was easy identifying the singer. There was no doubt - it was a classic 90's tune.