Look — NYC is a masterpiece… for other people.
For me, it was an overcaffeinated mausoleum pretending to be a city.
I could never shake the sense that everyone was sprinting nowhere in particular.
Every time I returned from my hometown with the baby, the city felt even more sterile, more hollow, more like a diorama of ambition with no soul.
It was not going to raise my child.
Not if I wanted him alive, sane, or familiar with sunlight.
UnderTheRock Diaries 