Hacking through a jungle
There are only a two times when I feel at ‘one’ with New York.
And they are quite different.
One is swimming up a waterfall, the other is diving off the top just to see what happens.
The first is a typified by rushing across town for something. Or arguing your way into a club, yelling at bad drivers, pushing past tourists. That sort of thing. You are willing yourself to power. You will get to what you want, even if it kills you. It’s not ‘exploring’, it’s hacking your way through a jungle.
The second is typified by being pleasantly drunk, carried down a busy street like a leaf in a stream. You couldn’t care what New York has to say for itself, you’re just here to exploit it. Planning, plotting, bending rules and general subversion of the way things ‘should be’. Another analogy would be coasting down a quiet street on a citibike. You’re finally in control for once, and you can relax and enjoy the view.
Why is it this way? The smaller and more timid you are, the heavier the city feels. Sometimes you might drown.
The bigger you are, the more confident and gregarious, the more you command the city. It bends for you.
At both extremes, you lose touch with yourself, and sink into the city. In devil may care hedonism or violent chaos - you connect and become one.
Or at least, it stops fucking with you.