I started this diary to talk about New York City, my hometown which is also the world’s stage. It’s a great place that deserves to have its stories told. I’m starting with what’s right outside my door, the Upper East Side bordering on Yorkville.
The seasons have shifted into Autumn. The sun’s not up at 6 am, when I usually rise. It takes another 45 minutes for the sky to reveal the city to me. Walking my dog around 8 am every day, I see the same cast of characters: fathers or mothers taking their children to school, people hailing cabs to get to work, joggers streaking a jagged line among clusters of walkers, trying not to bump into anyone else despite the velocity needed to reach peak efficiency.
The city is alive with people, no more so than at this hour of the morning rush. I enjoy watching all these random strangers in their lives. I live in a nearly hundred year old apartment building on the 19th floor. I still have a great view of the neighborhood despite new buildings sprouting up and blocking cherished views and vistas of the past. But people on the street, that’s real New York.