Is this how people feel all the time? you ask, incredulous, so many years since you knew what it was like to be people that you cannot remember on your own. There's a lightness in your mornings, an ease under your to-do list, a spark in your eyes that feels like it was familiar once. I cross the bridge, again, again, each time returning with eyes wide, skyscrapers at twilight, microcosms bubbling, bridges towering, in every window a world is happening and it could only be happening here. She writes, If you don't want to come back, you don't have to come back, and I realize we're having different conversations entirely.
New York, my darling, I've been away so long. Even as your streets passed under my feet, I couldn't see you for all the darkness across my eyes, wasn't truly here at all. But I am here now, New York, I see you again like the days when we first met, when you nestled your fumbling hands into mine, when I woke with your name on my lips. And the things to come were too fantastic not to tell lingers in my blood stream, 17 years after it first slipped in. We've weathered a storm, New York.
But we weathered it together.
And now we can revel
in all the fantastic things
to come.
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