a love letter.

How could I tell you what you mean to me...  How do I thank you for your love?

June 17th, 2014 - My farewell kiss...

Finding a way to articulate what New York is to me - what it means to me and has given me - is a task I feel crippled in undertaking. I would love nothign more than to adequately, poetically sing the significance new york has to me and so many, but i get the feeling i don't even quite know the full measure of this love yet....

Holding On

New York City is the place that inspired the great dreams of my life.

It not only inspired them, but grew them, shattered them, and then entrusted me with entirely new ones.

it's the place that defined for me the true meaning of patience and the elasticity of my own perseverance.

It's taught me how to be an individual, but also the undeniable power of a collective.

It's made me love more out loud, but also to shelter myself more strategically.  

on the loneliest night, the city seems come hold my hands.

on days i'm left uninspired, she slaps me back into step.

new york has broke my heart.

and yet, it keeps my heart beating.

I am in love with this city for a thousand reasons and I'll miss it for a thousand more.

But perhaps what I'll miss most is the New Yorkers themselves. 

a city comprised of millions of the most ambitious individuals on the planet; the true home of the brave. arriving from all the globe with bandoliers full of dreams... These people are truly made of stronger stuff.  

we, understandably, acquire some layers of armor, having to battle our way through our hudson-flavored hustle. So when one we're willing to peel back and reveal a glimpse of the always delicate human skin that lies beneath, don't blink.

"The New Yorker" (Erin Spadola Photography)

People ask me all the time, why stick around? Doesn't the city get exhausting? Doesn't it wear you down?

The truth is, yes.

Like you wouldn't believe.

new york demands you give her your entire self. And often we New Yorkers contemplate, why drove us to such sacrifice.

I think the answer lives somewhere near, "Go big, or go home."

or maybe, "No risk, no reward."

Because i think the truth we all stumbles on is, if you give it all up - give your whole self to the tragedy and majesty of New York and love her not in spite of, but because of her great demands and nasty imperfections - she will reward you in a way that no song can capture. 

Believe in her greatness, and she starts to reveal your own. 

 

To my precious New York, and even more precious New Yorkers - I miss you doesn't come close. 

h. x

I love New York, even though it isn’t mine, the way something has to be, a tree or a street or a house, something, anyway, that belongs to me because I belong to it.
— Truman Capote