It’s never too late.
Philly to NYC. Then back to Philly. On the way back to NYC.
We’re always thinking about ourselves.
It’s always about you. It’s always about me. In nyc, every woman and man for herself or himself (what? why do men always get mentioned first in references?) – at least, that’s what it can feel like.
The weekend turned into a week of nonstop mobility – going uptown, downtown, crosstown, visiting old friends and eating exorbitantly large amounts of food, as good friends + conversation seem to magnetically attract. Brooklyn. The Bronx. Midtown. Battery Park City. The East Village. Back to Brooklyn. The New York Blur.
I’ve forgotten how much walking and stair-climbing was involved in nyc, or, rather, everywhere else in the world outside of Los Angeles.
Here there is Shake Shack. Pizza. Stairs. People that walk amongst other people. Heftier price tags – albeit, some sizing discrepancies when it comes to portion volumes. Oh, yeah – the bagels are something else…
In the hustle and bustle, it’s not too late to stop. Wait. Pause. Stop talking and listen. Stop thinking and rethink. Who knows which direction the next door will lead?