On New York City and Magic

The city is alive.
It breathes and bleeds, listens and sees. All you have to do is stop. Just stop. Then listen.

The city is alive. Veins of subway tracks and streets and avenues. Surrounded by the womb of water. The compass points of the Chrysler Building and the Empire State always telling you which way is up, which way is down, which way is home.

The city is alive and it compels us, propels us. You’re about to cross the road, the light changes to red. Stop. We never stop. We turn and cross the other way. Always in a hurry. Always heading someway. Always in motion towards something.

It’s a sign, those red lights. Those speeding cars and those ever so slow pedestrians in your way. New York wants you stop and listen and see and breathe with it.

It wants you to see the neon magic word reflected in the strange puddle in the street. It wants you to feel the subway beneath your feet, reminding you of life fleeting and flying by.
All you have to do is stop.

That’s the magic of New York City. It speaks like no other city speaks. It screams and yells and cat calls to us. But we are all too busy to listen.

Stop, and let it whisper it’s blessings and curses. Listen to the people you pass by- their words, conversation snippets, arguments- those are spells. You just have to stop and feel the pulse. Every city has one, but New York’s pulse is heavy, loud, begging.

It’s a city full of people, people from everywhere, people who seem to be fully focused on themselves, on getting ahead or just getting somewhere.

Walk the streets. Just walk with open eyes and open ears. Listen and see. See the word “Ypoc” glowing in the Starbucks window across the street from Staples and feel the pull of history and divination guide you to a new adventure, and unknown destination.

Listen to the city. It’s alive. Believe in it as it believes in you. New York is a city built on dreams and wishes. It’s built on blood and tears, semen and fire and hate and love.
New York boils with everything. Every emotion and feeling. Power and magic rising from the thousands of footsteps in Grand Central, the roars from Madison Square Garden, the daydreams of Union Square, the awe from Times Square, the exercise from Central Park…

The city is built on magic. It wants to help you, to guide you, to nurture you. New York loves you and wants you to love it back.

Love New York. I love New York. And I see magic everywhere.


About litbandit

El Bandito Bibliotequa...or something.
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