New York, New York

October, 2018. 

I lost my heart in New York.

Some time underneath the golden skies, the towering silver skyscrapers, the neon glare of Time Square, the artistic part of Greenwich village, the brick buildings in Brooklyn, and the sun dappled paths in Central Park.. a part of my soul settled in, and never came back with me.

I'd always heard stories about this city. The city of dreamers. The best city in the world. The city where anything is possible. It was wild that I'd arrived in New York that one night in October 2018, with my heart and head bursting with expectations, yet still be completely blown away and bowled over.

It was the energy of the place. A concentrated vortex of the dreams and drives of almost everyone living there. You were free to be whoever you wanted to be, free to strive ,and to suffer in the race. It was an energy like no other city I'd ever been to or lived in. The sheer hunger, the fierce passion, the perverse amount of effort that it took to just keep up.

And despite the packed buzz of everything that generally happens in New York, in that fateful week, I managed to carve out a small story of my own. A sliver of moments and memories that slipped so simply in between all the hurrying and socialising and touring that we did there. Scattered some seeds that bloomed and burst so beautifully in that short expanse of time.

In hindsight this was probably the hardest ache of them all.