I want to embody New York City. I want to be such an involved inhabitant, the city’s dazzle and charm has no where to rest but inside of me. I want the perpetual noise of life in technicolor to rest itself in the quiet of my eardrums. I want the vibrant, inspiring yellow of Manhattan taxi cabs to let itself bloom round my irises. I want the smoke of early hot dog stands to waft delicately into my frail nose. I want the art of New York City in its entirety to dance the way it does and carry its magnificent beat into the yearning sanctuary I call my heart.
on things like dreams