New York, New York.

It’s the cotton candy sky that rises over Lower Manhattan at 6 o’clock in the morning. The rain that hides the City from Brooklyn during a thunderstorm and the auspicious silence that precedes it. The dewy grass of Bryant Park and the vapour of coffee as you take a seat on one the green chairs and the humid summer evening spent doing sweet nothing, watching the human fauna that grazes this side of the urban jungle. 

The cockroach that crosses the street when the lights turn green. The pigeons that flock atop the lamppost in Williamsburg to the terror of passers-by.  

The explosive sunset over Midtown and Long Island as you board the ferry to cross the East River back into Williamsburg. The heavenly light of Manhattan-henge piercing Green Street and turning this leafy, anonymous corner into a stairway to heaven. 

It’s New York.