Following the map of my heart

New York… Cannot figure out what is so special about this city? For the first time I did not like it at all. Stuffiness of the streets, fidgetiness of the crowd and fashionable pursuit of someone else’s success were pressing on me from all sides. But completely different pictures are coming to my mind now.
Because…
Probably this is the only place on the Earth, where in the stream of thousands of nationalities one can be simply unique: a 100% American and 100 % foreigner at the same time.

Recalling the district near the Wall Street and cannot stop to wonder … In a few seconds this territory suddenly turns from the field of the Mars’ battles, glorious victories, merciless tragedies into the tranquility of the narrow streets, where tourists unhurriedly wonder around. All their calm essence is breathing in the bitter coffee aroma and the sweetness of cheesecake coming from Financier Patisserie.

I close my eyes…. And my mind transfers me from the boutique on one of the avenues to the completely different fashion that has been proven by years or has endured the trial of today, - the vogue of the gallery art of Chelsea or Metropolitan …

Will never forget the day, when by following either our hearts or our stomachs my friend and I appeared near the underground Chelsea flea market entrance.
While struggling forward thorough the tastiness of the shops we degusted wine, crunched the newly baked bread and with the last bite of handmade chocolate finally made it to the street. In a few seconds all our presence was already celebrating the opening of the gallery in the Andy Warhol style under the tiring loud half-pop music. Crazy, but in the morning of the same day my soul had been delighted with almost an opera singing of the grannies and grandpas in the middle of the Central Park.

How can I ever forget our strange hotel where I first made a ride on a hand operated elevator. The feeling of the traveling in a time machine seized me when concierge closed the door of this unsophisticated device and started to push the wheel in order to get the creaking vehicle going. It is even hard to imagine now, but only few streets away, an ultra modern elevator with the fashionable crew of the Empire State Building was taking us, the last midnight visitor to the place, where we all were simple points somewhere in between earth and sky.
Then, around 2 am, cycling rickshaw, would take us for a drive through the streets of the lonely New York City. Only once in a while he would maneuver over the yellow cab and speed up making us laugh.
I guess, there is no ending to this “because…”
So, maybe the acuity of the contradictions and astringency of the unexplored create this aftertaste of mysteriousness, which, as a good wine, opens all its value with the time…
Maybe this taste is the magic of New York...