New York, bestill my road-weary heart.
Each time I’m in New York, my stay is punctuated with a loud, exclamatory Yes! followed by the ellipsis of …why am I not living here? Question mark. All held in the parentheses of (the so many smiling, familiar faces; the ones I’ve had the pleasure of knowing for so long). With several footnotes†.
With that sort of reception, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense why I insist on living so far away.