When I travel I miss New York's messy smelly cranky crowded place, not the actual place it is now but the sense of her. The shops that have closed and hand-made trinkets bartered therein, the breaking into city parks long after dark to just to share a swing seat and watch the stars, the all-ages night clubs that used to be a Church or used to be a Bank and would someday soon become a Farmer’s Market. Places that aren’t there anymore except for the feel of them.
I think New York is a vampire; it makes old-souls of lovers and while staying always young, always changing, always new.
This is how I remember her best.
Everything in this drawing is inaccurate. And that is what makes it perfectly right.