The excitement and the bustle and the lights and the crowds. The energy of the city. The city that never sleeps. All of that gets a little wearing after three weeks. Then you start to notice the trash on the streets, the graffitti on the walls (and doors and windows and mail boxes), and the blank stares of oppressed apathy on the daily train commuters. Nobody smiles in this city. You either adapt or the city devours you piece by piece. Or maybe that is adapting.

Some people love it here. Good for them. I’m sure if I stayed here longer (much, much longer) that I’d learn to tolerate it. But I see no scenery and would hardly call a 10 square foot triangle of grass a park, so I’m leaving soon. To return, yes. Either for business or—if I’m wealthy enough—pleasure. And I can’t tell you how pleased I am to be leaving town soon. Oh wait—yes I can. I’m very pleased.