It’s that time when the sun shines brightly and penetrates every dark corner of New York City and the breeze flows lazily like the breezes that I remember in Hawaii.
Women wearing long dresses, short dresses, short shorts, cargo pants, jeans and whatever else with their trusty scarves and zip-ups. These are the kisses of fall as the months creep closer to autumn. I love these times in the city, I feel like I am in a black and white film all the noises fade out and I am walking in slow motion. Men and women alike changing wardrobes with the season, stylish and sophisticated, sexy and not too revealing. Just right.
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I must say that walking anywhere in New York city if you are very observant of where you are you may just see things that you might find interesting to your psyche. You may find that whatever mood you are in there are signs that are screaming for your attention so that you may better understand what you may be feeling.
Forgive me for possibly sounding superstitious but just the other day I was sitting on a bench at Central Park West, feeling quite anxious and glum, confused and slightly sad, when I noticed a flyer on the ground. I been sitting there for half an hour already and realized that as people walked by no one stepped on this particular flyer, one woman actually stepped into a small puddle trying not to step on it. So for the sake of my own curiousity I went to investigate.
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Being the new New Yorker that I am when I would hear the name Harlem I am immediately thrown into a 70s flick where gangsters are running up and down the street looking for reasons to blast off their automatics. In fact I watched these movies with such awe and wonder, dreaming of the day that I may walk those very streets and once and for all judge for myself just how much of the hype was Hollywood.
Seven years ago upon arriving to New York I was immediately taken in by the simple smells of it. It wasn’t much of the sights as it was the noise and the smells, I felt like I was floating in the different countries while standing still on Gold Street in downtown Manhattan. Like a dog in its new surroundings, I walked around sniffing the air, trying to see where it might take me, with the occasional “public urinal” smell I was all good.
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