here in the streets of american nights

-The Great Gatsby

Unlike Mr. Nick Carraway, I think I came out of the womb liking New York. I don't remember what it was that first enchanted me, but I remember being desperate for it before I had even set foot on an airplane. Perhaps it was snippets of Friends or Seinfeld that I caught while my parents watched. Perhaps it was Eloise and Weenie and Skipperdee living on the tippy-top floor of the Plaza. I just remember being wild for it. I wasn't quite sure what was there or why I needed so badly to be there, but it filled me up.

And it still does. 

 I love waking up in New York. I love falling asleep in New York, to the white noise of honking horns and to lights through the window. I love the thick and gray smell of cab exhaust and Manhattan cigarettes that would be revolting in every other city. I love the city's lack of facial expressions and I love subway-sign Helvetica.

I often wonder how it is that there continues to be space for more people in that city. That's probably one of the (many) things that's most remarkable about it--it just seems to keep growing with anyone who steps the city limits. It's both the most intimidating and the most welcoming city in the world in that way.

(New York City Cops: The Strokes)

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