New York City

I don’t particularly like everything about the US. I don’t like American supermarkets, I don’t like the way some Americans treat their bodies, I don’t like some of the country’s laws, and so on. So how is it possible to miss something American so much that it almost hurts? I have an aching feeling in my stomach that signifies my desire to go back to New York as soon as possible.

New York really is my city. So many people say they would never be able to live in a city as crowded like New York, but to me there is nothing that seems more perfect. I am not talking about spending my entire life there, but about a year, doing an internship, or temporary job while really, really getting to know the city. That’s my dream. Someone I love would just have to go with me, but that’s a different story.

I want to roam the streets aimlessly, without the restlessness of knowing you’ll be there for only a couple more days. I want to get completely lost, hide away in the most far away corners of the most sketchy alleys, meet her most interesting inhabitants, listen to and absorb all their turbulent stories. I want to find treasures in small vintage boutiques, or old books that used to belong to the New Yorkers of decades past. I want to feel like I am part of it all, as if I’ve always lived in the most amazing city in the world.

An anthem to New York is bound to end up filled with cliche’s, because so many people have fallen in love with The – one and only – City and have tried to describe how it feels to be there, to not be there but to want to be there. The phrases have start to feel exaggerated- no city could be that magical, surely? All, I can say is: they are right, everyone is telling the truth and you will never know unless you go. Just, you know, when you do.. Take me with you.

All I can do now is look at my pictures, swallow in my NY-dreams and binge watch TV series and movies that feature New York prominently until I have enough money to go back.


First published in January 2015