New York isn’t as delicious as Paris, nor as pompous as London. It’s not as free-spirited as Bangkok or as steeped in history as Prague. Instead, New York is like a vividly colored cocktail—initially bitter, leaving you almost gasping for breath. Yet, you keep sipping, compelled by its intrigue, even as it stings your tongue and moves within the boundaries of your teeth like a piece of dark chocolate. When it finally rushes its way down your throat, it awakens something primal deep within you, something you never knew was there.
Walls, stand tall enough to let you bathe in the troposphere, with a sensation like solid cloth wrapping around your every step.
Its people—some rushed, some annoyed, but most wildly authentic and unpretentious, some laughing, some loud—all seem to merge into a powerful pillar of light that pierces the very heart of the earth.
Long after you’ve left, a wild, intoxicating circus lingers in your chest, a reminder of the city’s unforgettable energy.
THE WONDERMIND 