The city is powerful and mysterious. It is unlike any city that has ever existed - it is New York. Just to acknowledge that one is an inhabitant of this imperious realm to anyone in the world is to acquire some of its puissance.
One travels the streets and avenues in search of its psychic energy, its influence. The Frank Sinatra ditty, If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere, has it wrong. One comes to be acknowledged, not to make it. It makes you.
Out of the mass of its entire populace comes an energy. This energy is beneficial; it is also ruthless --You’re lucky to have me NYC. Its rivers, its little finger of an island reaching out to sea, the humid weather, the lack of stars at night, the night itself which is Manhattan, the dark side of America, the most forceful and mysterious of the boroughs where little of the sky intrudes and much of its commerce is under ground, armies traveling deep into the belly of the earth in search of a fix; fix me up New York City!