nyc diaries
Every time I’m about to leave New York I always think about how much I want to stay
I always say I want to move here to which people often reply “you really belong here, I so see it.”
Maybe because I can be a bit mean (or just brutally honest) or because I love to walk until my feet hurt and I’m delusional about almost everything.
New York is a city that feeds dreams and egos and crushes them just as fast.
Everyone feels the magic here: The shiny fruit and flowers glowing outside of the bodega on the corner, the steaming holes in the ground creating dancing smoke around the cobblestone streets, the kids skating and running around Washington Square Park, the gossiping girls sharing headphones on the L train…
The city never sleeps. It never rests and it’s claustrophobic in the same way too much coffee on an empty stomach is. You’re high for a second, you’re so high and elated and you’re walking down a particularly pretty street and the weather is crisp and you almost want to kiss the trees but then 5pm hits and you’re on the subway and you feel like you can’t escape. You can’t escape the man trying to talk to you across the way or the biting cold on your cheeks. The streets start looking all the same, your jacket is too tight, someone won’t stop honking, you feel the blister on your heel come back, you get dizzy, you hold your breath…
I do love this city, and maybe one day
I’ll stay.