This little bit of prose caught my eye on the subway today. It’s from an essay written by a guy named E. B. White. I’m wasn’t familiar with his work (until I looked him up and realized he wrote “Charlottes Web”), but I gotta say I’m more of a fan now after reading this:
“There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter – the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in search of something . . . Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.”
How great is that?
I love this city. It’s like living inside the ever beating heart of some massive animal. The noise, the controlled chaos, the constant pulse. Thump. Thump. Honk. Honk. There’s something happening in every single direction you look. If I manage to stay home one night, I feel guilty – there’s this amazing city out there just exploding with energy and excitement and here I am, not taking advantage of it! But then I think that I could go out every day and every night and still feel like I had just barely scratched the surface of this incredible place.
Seriously, I walk down streets and find myself smiling, shaking my head in disbelief, thinking “I can’t believe I live here”.
Gaah, I hope Uncle Sam renews my work visa in a year. How the hell am I going to live anywhere else now and not feel like I’m stuck in slow motion? Nothing compares to New York! I LOVE IT HERE!!!