A Small City With A Gigantic Heart

Diary Entry: September 10, 2024

My final partial day here. I woke up knowing I had to make the most of the remaining hours before my train out of here.

I went back to the only place I trusted for food — that small pizza place. The chubby chef and his team, the perfect pieces of pizza. It was probably the best food experience I have ever had in any city, a true culinary oasis in this concrete desert. I needed that taste of authenticity to ground me before I left.

Today I focused on the city’s heart, the places that define the “myth” I came to see. Manhattan and Times Square were the biggest concentrations of people I witnessed on the entire trip. It’s a sensory overload — people dancing, taking pictures, singing, and concerts erupting right on the street. But what struck me most was the sheer architectural aggression of it all. It’s not a beautiful spectacle; it’s a street flanked by sheer vertical walls, on which are plastered massive, garish advertising screens. I recognized the names of late-night shows and Hollywood stars, all screaming for attention.

It feels like the whole city is a giant billboard, a constant, high-volume performance. The people here — they seem so reserved, almost withdrawn. The lack of casual interaction, the emotional barrier the taxi driver warned me about, the quick-to-anger bouncer — it all suggests a necessary self-protection.

The contrast with the Georgian restaurant I visited earlier on the trip remains sharp in my mind. The $108 bill for a brief moment of peace and familiar food now seems like a strange, cynical summary of the entire experience. New York charges an absurd premium for any moment of respite or connection. I have taken the city’s measure. New York is a place that accelerates any clock. The city is smaller than it looks, but its problems are gigantic. It’s time to go.