sleep

I know a quieter New York. A New York where the only sound is the tap of your soles on the slushy winter pavement and the rustle of your double bagged over priced groceries against your thigh. I know a quieter New York where the engines and skidding tires and sirens and crowds are far out in the distance. I know a quieter New York where the "cheap colored lights" are dangled sporadically on the fire escapes of brown stones and on the high, high, windows of the taller buildings intertwined. I know a quieter New York where you don't need to wait for the traffic sign to change because the nearest yellow cab is miles and miles away. I know a quieter New York where the wind slashes your face so brutally that you're forced to take a deep breath and remember just how much you love this place. I know a quieter New York, where I could walk for miles and mile and always stay calm. My New York.