Oh New York how much I love you! (and sometimes love to hate you)
Where else can I work out my feelings outside on a park bench
Crying delicately,
Is it all in my head?
Where else can I fall and get up again?
Because it’s too expensive to live here
Stagnation is not an option
Ruthless determination the only way
You taught me that I wasn’t born with a silver platter. But with an ironclad heart
Where else can I be myself? A vessel for memories—Teetering between confidence and hopelessness, a razor thin margin.
A tight rope, the game of sport
Where else can I try all these outfits: Teacher, Server, Raver, Fiancée...
Where else can I ride the wave of The Crudo Movement? Butterfield’s PR to be the next Erewhon?
Anyway I love New York if you can’t tell.
A letter to myself [Break glass when you feel like moving out of the City]
