It’s about the city,
The roasted peanuts,
The constant energy,
And the sights.

It’s about the















Tourists in t-shirts,
Complaining about their sore feet,
Clicking their cameras compulsively,
Annoying people by asking directions.

It’s about haggling at stalls,
Fighting for a fake Birkin Bag you don’t need,
The pride of getting it at the “cheapest” cost,
And lying about the price.

It’s about the smells,
Cajun chili that screams in your mouth,
Greasy Chinese takeout, delicious but fattening,
The sewer smells that assault you with their odor.

It’s about the subways,
Mothers warning their children about standing to close,
Mexican mariachi bands that play in the subway cars,
Much to the delight of the tourists in t-shirts.

It’s about the constant energy,
Buzzing sounds of the millions of people walking,
Always movement, always something to do,
Something to see.

It’s about the city.