Walking in The Village

When I first came to NYC as a student I was excited by every step I took. Each turn of a corner was a new sight and a never- before experience. I loved the sparkling and the rough of it. I was in awe of “the City that never sleeps.” I loved that I could be anonymous, just one more of the colorful cast of characters on the streets of New York, yet being here made me feel like a star. After all, New York was not for everyone, but I had arrived. I loved all that there was to do: the many museums and shows and cafes. But I quickly realized that for me New York City would never be  about the people nor the activities. There was something more, something intangible that drew me here and that keeps me here, in good times and hard times. It is something in the air, something unseeable that whispers past me and catches my attention for just a second, as I walk through the West Village or wander into SOHO, and leaves me thinking how lucky I am to be here. Maybe it is the ghosts of all the colorful characters and the cumulative energy of all the activities and events and moments lived here by so many.  Over the years I’ve seen many changes. People and places have come and gone, but there is an aura and an energy that is “New York” and that will live on long after we are all gone. I will someday be the ghost that whispers past a young student taking her first steps on the streets of New York and leaves her thinking how lucky she is to be here.