This past weekend, I visited the city that I called home for a decade over a decade ago. It's strange, I've been in New York City twice in the past few months, and both times I've been in Lower Manhattan, an area of the city that I rarely ever went to when I lived on that island. I was actually on Wall Street for the first time this past weekend, despite having spent the majority of my ten years a mere 20 or so blocks from that pit of greed.
My previous visit took me inside the new World Trade Center for an insider's tour of the new landmark. While there, I snapped the above photograph from the 40 something floor. For some reason, this picture captures so many of my feelings about being a New Yorker. There so many lives co-existing in their own compartmentalized way, separating them from each other and from the flow of the masses that continues on at all hours of the day. There is something incredibly lonely about the views from NYC buildings. Knowing all of these people are out there and that there is life happening all around, yet not being a part of it.
I don't miss living in the city, but at times I miss the comfort of its unique sadness.