I have an absurdly indescribable love affair with New York, despite not being a struggling actor, a starving artist, or a Wall Street shark. I've never lived there, although I've had the opportunity (if I could have figured out how to afford it). Part of the reason I didn't was because I was afraid that the reasons I love the city would become irritants, and it would lose that magical je ne sais quoi that it has when it's just a place I visit regularly.
Then I read this article, in which a Manhattanite describes her failed attempt to decamp for Brooklyn, and am thinking that maybe I would still love it even if I lived there. Not that I'm planning on moving any time soon. But at least I feel a little more confident that if I ever did, it would be exactly as great as I think it would be.
One of my favorite quotes:
"Everyone's New York story is different from anyone else's, and personal. When I moved to New York City, it was for Grand Central station; the Empire State Building; honking taxicabs; the traffic, the tourists, that weird steam that comes out of the ground, the noise, and the struggle. I moved here for Manhattan, and, I realized, I'm not ready to let it go. Manhattan -- it's absurd inconveniences, annoyances, high rents, crowded bars, and tourist-packed streets -- is my yoga."
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