I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the effect of place on our state of being. What do we actually have here, where we are? What energy are we feeding off of? What community do we have? What vistas do we come across that stop us in our tracks?
New York is most commonly referred to as a graphic sign of unwavering affection (I <3 NY, anyone?), an oversized symbol of regimented nutrition (the Big Apple, for some reason…), a place where you’re guaranteed to become an insomniac (The City that Never Sleeps!) and, definitively, a temporary destination (It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there…) So what do we actually have here?
If you find yourself asking yourself this question, especially during those particular moments of unwavering city affection as you’re descending into a hot, steamy, smelly subway with inexplicable delays and you find that your current community is found in the shared back sweat and frustration among every individual on the platform, perhaps I can be more reliable in transporting you out of there.
What do we have here? Well, I’ve found some things.
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