What We Choose and What We Give Up

I expected to come back to New York and feel like I felt at the beginning, when I got my first look at the city. Riding a train south from Rhode Island, I looked up, and there was Manhattan, the silver stilettos of the skyline regal in the orange sunset, an intricate Cubist brooch on the breast of the earth. The buzz of the city was intoxicating and dense — squeezed into place by the corseting rivers — and I felt as if my body had just been plunged into a massive, living outlet. I felt, for the first time in my life, an umbilical sense of belonging to a place; we were attached, I was of it, it was making me. <a href="https://humanparts.medium.com/new-york-city-love-poem-508c4152e30">Website</a>