New York. There is nothing like it, and never could be. In many ways, I was glad to leave the Big Apple, but I confess I miss it, and yearn to go back. I need to be clear on this point, much of the ambivalance I feel about New York is centered around the truly horrible job I was working at the time, which dragged my mood down considerably. However, even that aside, I must state that New York lived up to it’s reputation as harsh and mercenary. This is the great American city, the focus of so much ambition, and that ambition is the engine of New York’s power, without question. People crossed the ocean with nothing but lint in their pockets and made something of themselves. People come here with dreams, and through will they make them manifest. However…. however, everything seemed tied to that forward mobility, that drive. So many things and so many people felt superficial. And yet… and yet. There is a beauty, a scale there, which I have encountered no where else, I i feel that i only began to scratch the surface. As time passes, as with so many things in life, the negative fades into the background, and the good steps to the fore. Perhaps it was my gross dissatisfaction with my job, perhaps because I was in a mental place of absorbing and seeing and standing still while living in a place of constant forward drive. New York demands of you to have a hunger, an ambition, something to prove.

I know i will return to New York.