I’ve thought about it quite a bit, blogging stories about my New York trip. I visualize myself approaching the computer, standing and leaning against the desk to type. But no words. Not very many words, anyway. Not any original words, or words that didn’t already automatically occur to me when I thought NEW YORK CITY.

And the photos that I’ve taken…. they’re so bad. Not all of them. But most of them are just me being overwhelmed at the visual feast, and the noise, and the smells, and weird things the air did. I guess that makes it sounds like a bad experience. But it wasn’t bad. It was just different. So very different than what I’m used to experiencing. So the photos, instead of being thoughtfully composed and clear, tend to be blurry and tilted and a little bit confusing. 

Oh well.

Out of our window in the hotel, we were faced with the Chrysler Building. I loved watching the light change throughout the day, so I was glad we were able to pop in and out of the hotel room at different times. 

We were in and out of Grand Central every day. It was so large. And so open. With so many arches and tunnels and doorways and cubbies and lights. But it still managed to be quite dark. And dirty. And absolutely loud.

I don’t know if it’s the time of year or just all the things that have happened at the same time, but, I feel like I have a sentence or two about all.the.things (even with what I’ve been reading/listening to/watching, apart from the trip). There’s no real analysis. It’s just straightforward observation.

Published by MeganFloyd

I'm a wife, mother, not-an-artist living in a barn in rural Alabama.

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