I’m not going to come back again, I’ve decided, because this time, I am simply going to stay. If there is no leave-taking, then there is endless return. I would have liked to experience that sensation of the eternal return just once in the last five years, but I’ve flirted with the city enough, that now it is asking me to make a decision. I’ve decided. The five-star hotel that tells me that I’m in NY might eventually be a dream of the past, because I won’t be able to afford it, or won’t have the job that reimburses my expenses, and I will certainly miss the hospitality.
I’m not under the illusion that hospitality is the rule here, and I understand that it’s an exception that’s usually reserved for the visitors. I don’t expect a parade for me, and I don’t even expect my new landlord to even be polite to me, and that’s all in the realm of the things that I’ve come to accept. This has been a long, ongoing dance, my love of New York City. Sometimes it’s fierce, and sometimes it’s quiet, but the pulse is always there. This is what people mean when they talk about the tango.
My favorite dance here was the one I learned that last time through. I was preparing for my meetings, and gathering together disparate pieces of a puzzle that were too large for someone so small, and I had the distinct impression of things falling apart. On the way to catch a cab, I caught sight of a man on the corner, holding a hat. As I approached, I saw out of the corner of my eye that he was looking at me and smiling. I’ve learned how to avoid a gaze here, but when I got closer, I heard him whisper that he just wanted to know if I could spare a smile. I had that on me, and since that day, I vowed to always donate whenever I can. I might like it here as much as I love it.
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