She has a unique rhythm, a swagger, a side step. Her smell is so distinct and recognizable like no other city I have ever traveled to. It's the perfect combination of fabric softener oozing out from the laundry mats intertwined with the smell of the smokey heated subway below. Her pulse is felt all around like a chaotic orchestra of sound and song that she billows around you. One of my favorite things to do in NYC is to explore the old entrances of the buildings. I like to run my hands along the versed, vulnerable walls and wonder of all the lives who have lived there before. Souls who have carried their groceries up worn stairwells and those who have moved furniture in and out of the musty elevators. Those who have sat on the stoops to gather, debate, and share thoughts. Those who fought in hallways only to make up in doorways.
I always get a strong sense of the many great secrets and stories encased within the old walls of the buildings in this Mother City. She gives me a certain confidence, a sense of self-belief. This is where you come to make dreams come true, she is a concrete jungle of free expression, creativity, and of inspiration.
