A tribute to New York.

She was alive. At least  in my eyes she was. Her attractive skyline; curvaceous and alluring, an intoxicating sight for the most sluggish of travellers. She was iconic. One of a kind. At night she lights up for all to see. The “Big Apple” had always had a starring role in my dreams, my leading lady, and now after years of torturous waiting, I was finally here.

Her heat hit me hard in the face like a wayward brick at a builders yard. My face tingling, my eyes stinging trying to adjust to my new and exciting surroundings. I was encased. Engulfed. Surrounded. My eyes gradually looking up at the towering buildings, trying my hardest to absorb it all. Was it always this loud? It was such an assault to the ears. I felt as if I was stuck between two marching bands. Symbols crashing and drums thumping.

Her heavily congested veins of traffic adding to the monumental chaos around me. People shouting and screaming, cars swaying and screeching, rushing people to their next adventure. The Brooklyn Bridge, the most famous of all her limbs, always moving and swaying to the flow of traffic.

Lady Liberty standing tall and proud, carrying a bright beacon of hope, guiding travellers into her welcoming arms. Its hard to imagine what a sight the Statue of Liberty would have been for people seeking a better future in America.

Boom boom, boom boom, boom boom. Times Square is pumping. Shops more like nightclubs, street performers singing their hearts out as if they were centre stage of their own Broadway hit. Even the tackiest fast food restaurant had a queue of ravers outside waiting to get in. Neon lights, jarring to the eye. Screaming look at me! Over here! Like a small child jumping up and down obsessed with attention.

She is fantastic at hiding her flaws. Although every now and then, you get a glimpse at her imperfections; the stains on society. “Don't look at that man sitting on that bench; dirty, cold and hungry. Look at the flashing lights, look at the shops, look at anything else! Don't stare too deeply into my eyes, that is the one part of my body that I cannot hide.”

The tranquil, serene greenery of Central Park, vastly different from any other aspect of the city. A man made haven, surrounded by chaos. A place to breathe, to relax, to stop (if only for a minute) before putting on your war paint and heading back in to the pandemonium.

Yet sometimes, there is an eerie silence as you walk her streets. She is still in repair, still healing. Her two front teeth have been knocked out and each time she smiles, you are reminded of her former heartache. She wasn't the same after that day, a day etched in her memory till the end of time.

She has been knocked down and beaten up, yet she still stands. When she rests, she is still working, still going, never sleeping. She is a drug to all that see her. You will never forget the first time you meet.