I began to like New York, the racy, adventurous feel of it at night and the satisfaction that the constant flicker of men and women and machines gives to the restless eye. I liked to walk up Fifth Avenue and pick out romantic women from the crowd and imagine that in a few minutes I was going to enter their lives, and no one would ever know or disapprove. Sometimes, in my mind, I followed them to their apartments on the corners of hidden streets, and they turned and smiled back at me before they faded through a door into warm darkness.
Many young journalists write to me with the same postgraduation conundrum: They know they need in-person connections and experience to jump-start their careers, but the entire media industry is located in a city that is prohibitively expensive and socially challenging, to put it mildly. I never know what to tell them. “Your early twenties are going to suck no matter what,” I usually say. “Sorry.”
I'm as calm as a fruit stand in New York, and maybe as strange.
RVA <-> BK.
Kat Goes to Brooklyn
Todo el granizo el rompecorazones.