New York is very hot and has a lower heaven than I could imagine and people who like crazy as hell to see to be cool and beautiful and perfectly nonchalant.
every trip is a journey best if the sun ahead of the rain and let you turn up and down wearing only a shirt and a red scarf and a hat bought for ten dollars at the Market Bowery. so ten days, or almost always the case, can not be wrong. and in fact.
best of new york? the fact that there is no best. least that is what I would say after a week and a half spent walking around the city.
I understood to be a lucky man just stepped in the apartment booked nothing short of a blind via internet, or rather as soon as I saw the piano and the wall that looked out on the balcony of higher there could be in circulation: The Phantom of the towers down on the left, the empire state building on the right. wanted new york? here's new york.
then there are the vintage clothing and music stores in Greenwich and East Village, there are the Cuban sandwich cafe habana (Voted best sandwiches in New York) just below the house, and there are well rivera and Gauguin and Picasso the fifth floor of the MoMA. the wheel is melancholy dell'amusement park in Coney Island and is the hot air of the streets in Williamsburg, there is a grid of lights behind the Brooklyn Bridge when the sun goes dark and there is the story a man who has just met michael stipe absent from the record store where you just entered.
New York, of course, New York. thee like New York? thee people liked that idiot that crowds the NBA games and sing the anthem before the American behemoths listless start to play basketball? quell'incontenibile loved thee hungry and need to appear friendly and welcoming and helpful around you all day? and blacks in Harlem dressed in bullet on Easter morning? Califone and the concert, four people and even an African-American, perhaps a couple of Asian and Hispanic, and you to wonder why, for some reason, but the integration, after all, what the heck is it? thee liked the idea that just beyond the walls of the airport that will host your last hours on American soil has spent most of his time that could be the greatest living writer? thee like peanut butter? and maple syrup? eh, dozens?
oh, if I liked all this.
to be honest, I would have stayed a little more ', in New York.
But not me complaining. now I'm going to make a snack with cannoli cream that the best woman in the world brought me back home from work, as you do with a child who is spoiled and that probably did not deserve it. how can I complain?
take care.
