New York. The city never sleeps and neither do I. I fell in love with the city somewhere between Soho and Greenwich Village. Everything that people told me about it was true: there were rats on the subway lines, homeless people in the alleyways, and good vibrations that lead me to believe it's just as magical as everyone said it was.
I stayed on the edge of East Village and Soho, wedged on a little corner off of Houston Street & 2nd Ave. I ventured through Little Italy and Chinatown, eating pasta and bartering with Asian ladies for knock-off purses. New York City strikes me as the only place in the world where you can take a pilates class and buy a fake Birkin on the same block. But hey, that's the city. Every New Yorker is used to this kind of convenience. It's easy to see why anyone would hardly leave the island.
Four short days passed in the blink of an eye. Between college visits, shopping, and avoiding Times Square at all cost (except we gave in, the tourists we are, for the ultimate cliche photo-op), I felt the groove that I assume every New Yorker moves with everyday. The city's an easy place, once you get used to it. Then again, you can say that about anything.
Until next time, New York.