New York City is what it is: over-familiar, hackneyed, with a plentiful of yellow taxis and high-rise tapered-top buildings, hot-dog carts and steam rising from below the streets, brownstone terraced houses and outdoor fire escapes on most multiple-story residential buildings. A little soiled, a little dramatic.
Transits in other countries are usually uncomplicated and quick. But the States have to go the extra mile to make themselves special and everyone else’s lives harder. Let me tell you how this happened.
The moment Liza Minnelli’s sequin dress sprinkled lights onto the stage, spotlight plopped, her voice shone, “Start spreadin’ the news, I’m leaving today“. Her pixie cut charmed. Her high cheekbones flared, “If I can make it there, I can make it anywhere.” – New York. New York.
The entrance into the main part of the church was locked and an old Turkish guard asked if I wanted to enter. I wasn’t quite certain that his intention was good, but the large anciently-styled skeleton key that he was holding already unlocked the door of my curiosity. And there I went…
It was a state of euphoria, the first time I stepped foot in Paris. I knew I had fallen in love with this city. I knew I had to fall in love in this city. And I did. Cliché, but classic. After all, who can ever resist the alluring sparkles of the City of Love?