-The Subway (On A Good Day)
-4 am Last Call
-The Subway Ride to Rockaway Beach
-Rooftops When The Tar Gets Sticky
-Epic Walks Through The West Village—>Soho—>Tribeca
-Sidewalk Book Sellers
-Being Affectionately Called Mami
Moving to LA in 28 days. I hope Randy is waiting for me.
I’d entered the city the way one enters any grand love affair: with no exit plan. I went willing to live there forever, to become one of the women clad in slim pants and killer shoes and interesting coats. I was ready for the city to sweep me into its arms, but instead it held me at a cool distance. And so I left New York the way one leaves a love affair too: because, much as I loved it, I wasn’t truly in love. I had no compelling reason to stay.
- Cheryl Strayed
It would be a long, long while because, quite simply, I was in love with New York. I do not mean “love” in any colloquial way, I mean that I was in love with the city, the way you love the first person who ever touches you and never love anyone quite that way again. I remember walking across Sixty-second Street one twilight that first spring, or the second spring, they were all alike for a while. I was late to meet someone but I stopped at Lexington Avenue and bought a peach and stood on the corner eating it and knew that I had come out of the West and reached the mirage. I could taste the peach and feel the soft air blowing from a subway grating on my legs and I could smell lilac and garbage and expensive perfume and I knew that it would cost something sooner or later — because I did not belong there, did not come from there —
-“Goodbye to All That,” by Joan Didion