For what? I wonder to myself. Oh. For all of this. The Empire State Building. Everything.
Walking home from work, I found myself weaving and dodging between tourists and families, walking when there were no cars, and even walking when there were. The faint smell of the cigarette perched between two fingers of the man in front of me drifts towards my nose, but only for a fleeting moment before a rush of cool wintery air wraps around us.
I saw a bunch of students walking around in circles with drums and flags, sewn with some kind of Asian character symbols, presumably Korean. There is joy on their faces, and they have a pride in their community. They don't draw a huge crowd, but people from every race are standing and watching–enjoying.
Women with fantastic accents and dark nail polish come into work, (Starbucks... Did I mention that?) not to be tourists, but for work... Fashion Week starts on Monday, after all.
As I walk home, carrying relatively heavy groceries, the chill nips at my ears, and the sidewalks are crowded with people. This is a place of happiness and sadness, habits and traditions, saying hello to new friends, or for goodbyes, to your dad, after he snagged a cheap flight and got to come visit you for a few days. Most places you walk, even if your feet are killing you sometimes. Right or left, skyscraper to subway, homeless or housed,
I love New York.
