Concrete Jungle

When I was little, we were a family of nomads — traveling coast to coast, from sleepy town to bustling city. We left our mark in places like LA County and Flushing, Queens. I was seven when we finally settled in Northern New Jersey, where I spent most of my formative years. We always prided ourselves in being the more “cosmopolitan” types among our suburban peers. To them, the Bergen County born-and-bred, New York would only be known as the City. A monolithic creature emerging for the Hudson; a concrete mystery, best left undisturbed.

This spring I’m back for a brief sojourn from France. Free to lose myself in what has been, for the better part of the 21st century, the center of the universe. Despite its familiarity, New York can feel like something out of a Jules Verne novel. An island city? It should seem unimaginable. Almost as unimaginable as the fact that all the neighborhoods, in all the nooks and crannies in all of the five boroughs, could be united under a single address: NEW YORK, NY.

One thing is clear:

“New York is not a city. It’s a world.”


DUMBO

DSC_1204.JPG

DSC_1198

Lower Manhattan

DSC_0021DSC_0031

Midtown

DSC_0086.JPG

DSC_0066.JPG

Long Island City

DSC_1132

DSC_1144

MOMI, Astoria

DSC_0007

DSC_0009

Follow my blog with Bloglovin

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s