A reminder why I’m happy visiting New York City, not living here

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So I’m in Manhattan for some work today. And when I visit New York, something in me just bursts to life. The sounds. The crispness. The shit talk. The jaywalking. The horns. The taxis. This city feels like home, and sometimes I wonder whether we ever should have left.

Then, I see something like the above image.

It’s a garbage bag on the sidewalk, topped with piss. It’s likely dog piss, but it may well be human piss. Either way, it’s certainly urine, and the layers of liquid that missed its target are splattered on the sidewalk. There’s also an accompanying cigarette butt—because why wouldn’t there be?

That’s the biggest element one notices post-living in New York City: Just how filthy it all is, a byproduct of 8 million people crammed into a relatively tight space.

So, yeah, I love New York.

As a frequent visitor.

1 thought on “A reminder why I’m happy visiting New York City, not living here”

  1. Vincent Lara-Cinisomo

    Same. I miss Brooklyn greatly, I can’t wait to visit again, and then come home to my quiet Midwest life.

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