Eleven years ago, I had yet to call New York City home. I can only imagine, hearing the stories of those whose skyline, life line, changed forever on September 11th. The ghost town of ash, the browning core of the Big Apple, the city that never sleeps in a coma-like state. I pray I never know that NYC. Today I reflect and rejoice in the vibrant, revitalized neighborhoods that I call home. The streets that burst with inspiration, hope, and strength.
Streets that are an artist’s canvas. That embrace color, that compose love poems and foreign messages sent over seas.
Streets that are a sanctuary. That create community, that foster acceptance, that raise voices in song.
Streets that are a playground. That leave you jumping for joy, that welcome all who want to join the game.
Streets that are a stage. That make you feel ten feet tall, where “strutting” was born.
Streets that are a magazine spread. That flaunt personal style, that turn heads, that cut the edge.
Streets that are a gallery. That open eyes, that screw with perception and send conventions sky high.
Streets that are a practice. That energize the body and mind, that stretch you to salute the sun.
Only in New York. Looking at the streets today, you’d never guess what happened eleven years ago. Still, we’ll never forget.
I ♥ these streets. I ♥ NY.