my beautiful New York, You catch the light like no other. The way golden hour spills over your rooftops, setting the skyline on fire, makes me stop mid-step—just to take it in, just to remind myself I’m here. You hum with the voices of strangers who somehow feel familiar. A compliment on the street, a conversation that lingers long after it’s over. People come and go, but some stay with you in the smallest, most unexpected ways. You never stop moving. Some days, I chase after you, breathless. Other days, I let you carry me, swept up in the rhythm of footsteps, car horns, and subway melodies. Either way, you never let me forget—I’m alive. You turn sidewalks into stories. I’ve walked miles just to think, to feel, to let your streets rearrange my thoughts. No destination needed, just the sound of my own footsteps and the city breathing beside me. You make me believe in something bigger. Even on the hard days, even when doubt creeps in, there’s an unshakable knowing—this is where I’m meant to be. New York, you are not easy. But you are mine. And that is enough.