top of the met, nyc.
i want to go back to new york in the summertime. sweating between the shadows of the buildings, smelling the nuts and hot dogs and taxis rushing by: the sweet city air. i want to picnic in central park, just sit and wait for time to go by. the slightest of breezes cooling me and sending a myriad of scents my way. the city coming to me. calling me to explore, calling me to follow.
and when i go back to new york in the summertime, it won’t be relief. it won’t be a feeling of anticipation meeting reality. it will be simple and wondrous and filled with nothing but freedom. my thoughts finally releasing me, liberating me, allowing me to see past everything i thought i knew about life and living and all those little things.
nyc is bathing my senses.
smells of sweet peanuts, pretzels, pizza, hot dogs. the feel of steam from grates in the road, turnstiles against my legs through subway stations. sights of traffic lights, times square lights. tastes of cheesecake, bagels, garbage left too long on the road. the sound of car horns and cash registers.
my mind is being blown.