Blue oceans of sea foam, I feel the calming of the water as I walk onto the ramp. The Staten Island Ferry, a means of transportation that I have called my own for almost four years. It seems as though every time my feet step upon the concrete and metal there's something new. As with Walt Whitman's "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry", a sense of nonconformity and "oneness" for humanity and its surroundings seems to be the common theme. Both my own, along with Whitman's experiences while traveling, savor the short trips to our predetermined destinations.
             Last year, as I looked across the bay at the city that never sleeps, I would stare proudly at the twin towers of the World Trade Center, which marked our civilization. Today, I still glance across and see where they should be but instead, my memory still inevitably makes them stand proud and tall. Lady Liberty waves an aged, outstretched and welcoming arm towards the ferry and its passengers. The waves crash down around the boat in defiance, yet we are urged on in the somewhat turbulent waters of the Hudson. I glance around and proudly look at my fellow passengers and remember why I came here in the first place. It was my freedom to move here and gain a higher education, and these people all have their own unique stories. Some of them may be escaping a home where they no longer can relate; I turn to see a red faced couple fight.
             My eyes shift to the right in amazement at a young Asian child who stares at an insect that has made its home the Staten Island Ferry, so young yet so understanding of this creature's environment. My first thought was that of most little snot nosed children pouncing at the first chance to squish the little creatures that share their space, and yet as I looked on, this one tiny boy just sat there and stared in absolute wonderment. I see the tall Star Wars like structures that loom in front of
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