NYC
There is too much to say. Snapshots to come. For now......
...Standing on the corner of the Bleeker St. playground soaked in sunshine and bathed in wind that was chilly but not cold. My eyes drank it all in; the cobblestone streets, the brownstone town houses and red brick buildings lining them like soldiers, bare branches stretching towards the sky as though sensing the spring and warmer winds. I could still taste cupcake and began to walk up the street. My boots made no noise at all, and as I rounded the corner a young woman’s shoulder collided with mine. She didn’t glance back but nodded in my general direction. I suppose that could pass for an apology...
...Times square. Seoul’s jealous lover. There are no stars, there is only neon. Pictures moving, flashing, words moving back and forth, in and out. The energy is like nowhere else and as I moved through the crowds, I understood why natives abhor this place. Tourists clog the streets, cameras flashing, shopping bags dangling form their arms and wrists, gazing up, up, up….mouths open, breathless and loud. Theatres line the side streets, your name in lights, dreamers flock. There is a certaion magic to it all, but I breath a sigh of relief as we move uptown, the lights dim but never go black, the sounds soften but never silent. This city never sleeps….never sleeps…….
...The most amazing burrito I’ve ever experienced in my life. Black beans, grilled peppers and onions with chipotle soaked chicken, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream, extra-spicy salsa and real guacamole. Un-fucking-believable...
...The eye of the storm. The Plaza set against the background and swarms of children and their little voices turned loud. Central park was sunny that day. We walked….and walked….and walked….bliss. We passed over bridges and bridged underpasses. The traffic was heard but not seen. The air seemed cooler and we passed the outdoor skating rink, covered in brightly colored coats and dirty snow. The statue appeared on our left and though we had been looking for it, we felt almost surprised we had actually found it. It was old, brassy. Alice sat in the middle, larger than life, she must have just eaten a piece of that cake. The Mad Hatter sat on her right, the hare crouched on her left. The tit mouse sat in front of them all next to the tea set splayed out before them. I sat on the mushroom to the left of the statue. Alice’s hands were reaching towards me, and the Mad Hatters eyes watched my every move. We walked away and I looked back once. That small piece of madness dropped into the centre of the park….
...Laughter in the window of Starbucks, sipping and snacking, watching the circus that parades the streets of Manhattan...
...We might have passed right by it if it hadn’t been for our impromptu tour guide. But he knew the ropes. We went through the small doorway and into a low ceilinged room. The heat of the ovens and the smell of crust and baking cheese were overwhelming and my hunger was instantly amplified. We waited our turn at the crowded counter and I ordered the one that had the most green on it. Spinach, broccoli and tomato. The slice was the size of my head and we carried our trays up a small staircase and ate on the second floor, dirty sunlight streaming through the windows and the white noise of the lunch crowd around us. It was the best pizza I’ve ever had...
...I chuckled when we turned up a side street lined with fetish shops and knew we had wandered into Chelsea. The wind was cold but I hardly felt it. Bare branches stretched towards the sky and the brownstones lining the narrow streets were out of a movie set. I was overwhelmed by contentment. To be exactly where I was at that exact time. The West Village on a Saturday night. We ducked under a navy awning and stepped into A.O.C. There were two seats left at the bar and we sat among the hipsters and drank a glass of shiraz. I leaned back and gazed into the mirrored backdrop lined with votives watched the light reflect on the walls, glasses and all the rich, beautiful people sitting around me. I felt drunk from the wine, the city...
...We slipped inside after cruising the streets for quite some time. The walls were wood paneled and accented with red leather, gold rails encircling the cracked leather booths. We slid ourselves into one and saw menus dropped in front of us courtesy of a smiling cherub-faced Italian mob boss…black vest and all. We heard our orders shouted back to the kitchen in thick Brooklyn accents and listened to the clink of knifes and hum of the milkshake machine. Retro New York. Classic. A BLT on brown, lite on the mayo, house salad, Italian dressing. Coffee and a slice of New York cheesecake with fresh strawberries on top...
...Early. The street was humming but barely awake. I stood outside the window and stared at the sparkle within. The morning wind was biting through the hoodie I had pulled on but I barely felt the cold. Hot coffee in one hand, and cinnamon pastry in the other. I sipped the coffee and wondered just how much that gorgeous ring was, what time the store actually opened on a Sunday… if she were here now, what would she say? Breakfast at Tiffanys...
Love.
...Standing on the corner of the Bleeker St. playground soaked in sunshine and bathed in wind that was chilly but not cold. My eyes drank it all in; the cobblestone streets, the brownstone town houses and red brick buildings lining them like soldiers, bare branches stretching towards the sky as though sensing the spring and warmer winds. I could still taste cupcake and began to walk up the street. My boots made no noise at all, and as I rounded the corner a young woman’s shoulder collided with mine. She didn’t glance back but nodded in my general direction. I suppose that could pass for an apology...
...Times square. Seoul’s jealous lover. There are no stars, there is only neon. Pictures moving, flashing, words moving back and forth, in and out. The energy is like nowhere else and as I moved through the crowds, I understood why natives abhor this place. Tourists clog the streets, cameras flashing, shopping bags dangling form their arms and wrists, gazing up, up, up….mouths open, breathless and loud. Theatres line the side streets, your name in lights, dreamers flock. There is a certaion magic to it all, but I breath a sigh of relief as we move uptown, the lights dim but never go black, the sounds soften but never silent. This city never sleeps….never sleeps…….
...The most amazing burrito I’ve ever experienced in my life. Black beans, grilled peppers and onions with chipotle soaked chicken, tomatoes, lettuce, sour cream, extra-spicy salsa and real guacamole. Un-fucking-believable...
...The eye of the storm. The Plaza set against the background and swarms of children and their little voices turned loud. Central park was sunny that day. We walked….and walked….and walked….bliss. We passed over bridges and bridged underpasses. The traffic was heard but not seen. The air seemed cooler and we passed the outdoor skating rink, covered in brightly colored coats and dirty snow. The statue appeared on our left and though we had been looking for it, we felt almost surprised we had actually found it. It was old, brassy. Alice sat in the middle, larger than life, she must have just eaten a piece of that cake. The Mad Hatter sat on her right, the hare crouched on her left. The tit mouse sat in front of them all next to the tea set splayed out before them. I sat on the mushroom to the left of the statue. Alice’s hands were reaching towards me, and the Mad Hatters eyes watched my every move. We walked away and I looked back once. That small piece of madness dropped into the centre of the park….
...Laughter in the window of Starbucks, sipping and snacking, watching the circus that parades the streets of Manhattan...
...We might have passed right by it if it hadn’t been for our impromptu tour guide. But he knew the ropes. We went through the small doorway and into a low ceilinged room. The heat of the ovens and the smell of crust and baking cheese were overwhelming and my hunger was instantly amplified. We waited our turn at the crowded counter and I ordered the one that had the most green on it. Spinach, broccoli and tomato. The slice was the size of my head and we carried our trays up a small staircase and ate on the second floor, dirty sunlight streaming through the windows and the white noise of the lunch crowd around us. It was the best pizza I’ve ever had...
...I chuckled when we turned up a side street lined with fetish shops and knew we had wandered into Chelsea. The wind was cold but I hardly felt it. Bare branches stretched towards the sky and the brownstones lining the narrow streets were out of a movie set. I was overwhelmed by contentment. To be exactly where I was at that exact time. The West Village on a Saturday night. We ducked under a navy awning and stepped into A.O.C. There were two seats left at the bar and we sat among the hipsters and drank a glass of shiraz. I leaned back and gazed into the mirrored backdrop lined with votives watched the light reflect on the walls, glasses and all the rich, beautiful people sitting around me. I felt drunk from the wine, the city...
...We slipped inside after cruising the streets for quite some time. The walls were wood paneled and accented with red leather, gold rails encircling the cracked leather booths. We slid ourselves into one and saw menus dropped in front of us courtesy of a smiling cherub-faced Italian mob boss…black vest and all. We heard our orders shouted back to the kitchen in thick Brooklyn accents and listened to the clink of knifes and hum of the milkshake machine. Retro New York. Classic. A BLT on brown, lite on the mayo, house salad, Italian dressing. Coffee and a slice of New York cheesecake with fresh strawberries on top...
...Early. The street was humming but barely awake. I stood outside the window and stared at the sparkle within. The morning wind was biting through the hoodie I had pulled on but I barely felt the cold. Hot coffee in one hand, and cinnamon pastry in the other. I sipped the coffee and wondered just how much that gorgeous ring was, what time the store actually opened on a Sunday… if she were here now, what would she say? Breakfast at Tiffanys...
Love.
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I luv you chica! <3