Beauty in the European sense has always had a premeditated quality to it. We've always had an aesthetic intention and a long-range plan. That's what enabled Western man to spend decades building a Gothic cathedral or a Renaissance piazza. The beauty of New York rests on a completely different base. It's unintentional. It arose independent of human design, like a stalagmitic cavern. Forms which are in themselves quite ugly turn up fortuitously, without design, in such incredible surroundings that they sparkle with a sudden wondrous poetry.

the word "fortuitous" keeps popping up in unbearable likeness.

it certainly is fortuitous for me to have read the above paragraph on my way back from LAX.

yes...i wasn't leaving JFK, but it still meant something.

NYC always presents me with a sign...telling me that that ain't gonna be the last time we meet.

we're like lovers. we're faithful to each other. and i know he'll always be around for me to run back to.

NYC is a city. and while many look upon it as simply a jungle with concrete that goes way too high up, i chose to see it as exactly what the paragraph above described it to be.

and i was only 16. imagine that.

i need to go back. i need to go home.