New York City is beautifully bizarre. For six months, I have struggled to decide whether it is the best thing that has ever happened to me, or the loneliest. I know now that the answer will never be quite clear. Maybe that’s the beauty of this city – relinquishing control, giving into the chaos. Losing yourself in the streets. Finding yourself in the process.
For the past couple of weeks, a strange cloud of melancholy has perched itself on my doorstep. I have no substantial theory for where it came from, or why it has stayed. Almost as if it has found its way here by mistake. If only I could tell it that, and politely ask it to leave.
Not every day is melancholy, though. There are moments in this city that I could never experience elsewhere. Moments that send a shiver through my stomach and into my throat. It is humbling that I have the privilege of living in them.
New York is stunning in all of its opportunity. You can only walk around Manhattan for so long without giving into the stars in your eyes.
This Monday, the city gave me the most beautiful birthday gift it knew how to in one perfect sunset. The colors and patterns shifted by the second, much like the city itself. Bizarre, and beautiful.