New York. The Big Apple. The City That Never Sleeps.
The City of Dreams.
It's the city I've dreamed about since I was 8, when I read a book in the series, "Three Girls in the city" which is centred in New York. And ever since, I've fallen in love.
I've fallen in love with the crispy golden red autumn leaves crunching beneath one's feet, with the invincible skyscrapers and the gorgeous sunrise and sunset, with the people that couldn't give a s*** about the person standing right next to them, and the yellow cabs that overcharge you for everything and the overcrowded sweaty and smelly underground tube that is jam packed especially in the evening and late at night and with the lights twinkling like the most beautiful stars on a dark cloudy night.
I've fallen in love with the traffic jams on the streets, with the cabbies yelling and creating the biggest ruckus to be seen, with the corporates that try to fix their heels and manage their cup of skimmed no fat Starbucks delight, with the people that sit on the street, holding the cardboard sign that says, 'Need Money' in their hands, with the eccentric people that walk around naked in the street, covered from head to toe with silver paint.
I've fallen in love with the ice and snow lining every street and painting the perfect picture of a fairytale come true, with the Christmas decorations that blink at you from every corner of the street, with the perfect setting for the drop-of-the-ball New Year kiss right smack in the centre of Times Square or the least romantic place which makes it all the more romantic, with the Madison Square garden that holds the best concerts especially on New Year's Eve, with 5th Avenue and all its amazing delights, with the Rockefeller Center with its Radio Music Hall and its popular skating rink, with the Statue of Liberty that stands tall and proud, on the Liberty Island I would kill to see.
I've fallen in love with all the confusing blocks and streets and squares and avenues that I can never memorize or get right, with the ever prevailing doubt in my head about Uptown and Downtown and Chinatown and Brooklyn and Manhattan and Long Island and Harlem and all those Easts and Wests and the Central Park which I still don't know is politically correct, with Broadway and Rent that I want to see everyday, with SoHo, Little Italy, and all those Heights I will never be able to really soak in until I see.
I've fallen in love with the poetry slams, and the street dances, and the book launches and the thrift stores and the vintage stores and the fashion boutiques and all Seven-Elevens and stores that open all night and the bars that go crazy with strangers from all around the world, hoping that they'll find THE ONE for them tonight, with the charm of the city that lulls you into believing that this is where you'll find yourself, really find yourself, amidst all this chaos, and find out where you belong.
I've fallen in love with the bright sunshine and the ever-pessimistic and optimistic mood of the natives, with the yellow filtering through all the giant state-of-the-art buildings, with the run-down shacks and hippies walking backwards on the road, lost in their own thought, with pissed people sloshing through the rain, eager to get to work, and the couples that dance in that very rain and jump in the murky puddles with the dopiest and goofiest smile on their face, with the flowers as they emerge from the concrete and still stand tall, with the fast pace of the city, and the almost tranquility that comes along with the overwhelming emotions, with observing the little world from the sidelines and yet being there in the middle of it all, because I'm in love with the city that is going to make me feel insignificant, important, and infinite, all at once, and once for all.
More than anything else, I've fallen in love with the idea of being in New York City myself. I've fallen, and fallen hard and fast and flat on my face and Converse-over-caffeine in love with New York, and one day, it's going to be my reality.