I've been wondering lately if I'll ever come to love New York in that intense defiant way that seems to characterize die hard New Yorkers. This is a city that simultaneously shocks and awes you with its amazingness and alienates you with its open wounds. It's not exactly easy to love a place that resists intimacy.
Right now, I'm sitting with my bags packed waiting for my cab to take me to the airport so I can run away to the desert for a week. If I don't leave now, I may turn into a puddle of nerves. Yet, I always miss New York more than I expect to when I leave. I miss weird things like the subway and the Greek Coffee cups and the confidence of always having really good sushi within reach. I walk too fast for other cities now. My luck is such that today the weather finally shaped up so being outside is no longer painful. And now I'm leaving. Oh well.
driving into bolivia
12 years ago
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