I won't dare debate D on the topic of New York City. He avoids it like the plauge, while I feel like I've been born here; simple as that. I heard a long time ago that you either love New York or hate it. And I can understand why.
The streets are dirty, even on 5th avenue. The people are pushy and loud. The realities of New York are real and mean sometimes. Everywhere you look your vision is blocked by the towering skyscrapers. You can come to feel like the city is either your prison or your asylum. I spent a lot of days, especially the cold ones, trying to figure out what it is about this city that puts me at ease while for some it winds them up so tightly.
I gave notice to my job today, and let them know I would be moving to Houston with D. Congratulations were in order, and I finally felt good about a conversation that had made me nervous in anticipation.
After work, instead of walking straight to the subway, I took a detour around Penn Plaza. I stopped at the corner of 33rd and 8th and took refuge between the columns in front of the Borders building. The sky wasn't quite black yet; it had that freshly painted blue greyness that follows dusk. So I took it all in for a second. The blistering cold wind rushing into my hood. My fingers freezing up. The dampness on the sidewalk slowly becoming ice. The sidewalk traffic. The bumper to bumper taxis. The Vegas style lights of the stores and restaurants that lined the corner (McDonald's never looked so good). The background of buildings that seemed to lean up against each other, and their mother the Empire State building. The cracks in the city that let the rest of the world in, with a disappearing sunset, and just the slightest hint of a cascading mountain.
I might not miss the dirt or the smell of the last car on the subway, but I know I'll miss the skyline.
The streets are dirty, even on 5th avenue. The people are pushy and loud. The realities of New York are real and mean sometimes. Everywhere you look your vision is blocked by the towering skyscrapers. You can come to feel like the city is either your prison or your asylum. I spent a lot of days, especially the cold ones, trying to figure out what it is about this city that puts me at ease while for some it winds them up so tightly.
I gave notice to my job today, and let them know I would be moving to Houston with D. Congratulations were in order, and I finally felt good about a conversation that had made me nervous in anticipation.
After work, instead of walking straight to the subway, I took a detour around Penn Plaza. I stopped at the corner of 33rd and 8th and took refuge between the columns in front of the Borders building. The sky wasn't quite black yet; it had that freshly painted blue greyness that follows dusk. So I took it all in for a second. The blistering cold wind rushing into my hood. My fingers freezing up. The dampness on the sidewalk slowly becoming ice. The sidewalk traffic. The bumper to bumper taxis. The Vegas style lights of the stores and restaurants that lined the corner (McDonald's never looked so good). The background of buildings that seemed to lean up against each other, and their mother the Empire State building. The cracks in the city that let the rest of the world in, with a disappearing sunset, and just the slightest hint of a cascading mountain.
I might not miss the dirt or the smell of the last car on the subway, but I know I'll miss the skyline.
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1 comments:
Congratulations on your new relationship with D. Well, not new, uhhmm, improved?
You know what I mean.
I guess NYC's loss is Houston and D's gain.
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