I spent many hours on a plane to go to New York this past weekend, and I spent almost as much time trying to understand how I'd become so slow, pokey, clumsy and quaint—in essence, everything that New Yorkers are not. The city has always drawn me to it, making me fall in love with it only to quickly give me reasons why our love can never be. (That reason usually has to do with the low salaries of the publishing industry and the high rents of the five boroughs.)
During this visit, I did a housing swap with a Brooklynite who lives in the nicer part of my old neighborhood. It was strange to walk down 7th Avenue, to enter Prospect Park where I used to enter it on weekends, and to stroll by the apartment where Todd no longer lives. It was like taking a tour of the best and most challenging parts of my early 20s, and ultimately, I was glad that it was only a tour. You couldn't pay me to be 22 again.
During this visit, I did a housing swap with a Brooklynite who lives in the nicer part of my old neighborhood. It was strange to walk down 7th Avenue, to enter Prospect Park where I used to enter it on weekends, and to stroll by the apartment where Todd no longer lives. It was like taking a tour of the best and most challenging parts of my early 20s, and ultimately, I was glad that it was only a tour. You couldn't pay me to be 22 again.
Labels: new york
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