I may be sitting on the couch at home, but my mind is somewhere in Fort Greene clinging to a hope of returning to the smell of exhaust and a plethora of wanderlust. That first evening, I clung to the curtain, taking everything in and trying not to hold my breath; 8 o'clock p.m. brought a golden river onto the old floorboards, making them shimmer with the descending sun. What I love about you, New York, is your ineffability to move. You are a current of lights and sounds and people moving, swarming into never-ending paths. You are an oxymoron, a loosely sealed message that everyone reads a little differently. You are a thousand voices, both quiet and loud, that all form to create the brick and cement that make you something impeccable.
New York, you are a novel that has ink running down and out the pages and onto the wall, you are both the best-kept secret and the most read article. Love is plastered in the cracks of your buildings, and mystery holds you up. You make my heart beat faster, make my steps fall a little bit more in line and my breath become in sync with your heartbeat. You chant for the people who live here. I can see it in their eyes, a chorus of thank you's because they are proud to be your dwellers, your body. Because it's the people who make New York what it is just as much as its the city that makes the people who they are.
They call it the city that never sleeps, and I wonder if it's because of the sirens at 3 a.m. or the feeling I get in my stomach when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep because I am already captivated by your beauty. Every corner of you is a new little world, and I long to explore them all. I tell myself, stop looking because you have already found it. You are already here. A great symphony playing at our toes, the rumbling of the subway creating a deep, penetrable base beneath our feet. You are the tune and we are the lyrics singing a song of serendipity in the selfish hope that others can't quite unlock it and maybe they never will. Thank you for leaving an unmistakable imprint on the timeline of my life, a lasting impression that makes me want to become old enough to make you mine.
New York, you are a different language. You are an undiscovered breed of a figure with footsteps that keep changing direction and size. Thank you for making my heartache and thank you for being a fantastic journey rather than a single destination.
I'll be back, I can promise you that.
Keep shining.
Sincerely,
Olivia
