![]() ![]() ![]() He didn’t need to say why, for I know as well as any the New York winters sing a bitter song in the bones. Reading it, I felt his longing and loss woven into the simple words he chose, though he only meant to tell me he had finally moved to the west coast after so many years of weather-induced jealousy. ![]() ![]() I recently found an old New-Yorker-friend’s Christmas letter nestled in a stack of long forgotten memories. White celebrates the New York that is, he mourns the New York that was. As I reread it, I began to better understand the longing and loss that many hearts endure when they lose a place they truly love, either left behind or lost through years of inevitable change (change in both city and self), for even as E.B. Actually, it wasn’t the very first time I saw NYC-that happened when I was 13 (pictured here with my family… my very first glimpse of the NYC Twin-Towers-skyline)-but my “falling-in-love New York” was the first time I came to New York as a full-fledged adult.Ī while back, I found my tattered copy of “Here is New York,” E.B. Seeing it for the first time through the eyes of love painted an indelible portrait on the canvas of my mind that will forever remain vibrant and alive. The first lasted only a year, but my love affair with the city itself will last a lifetime. Once, long ago, I spent a micro-eternity in New York City. ![]()
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