NY

The first crisp-appearing day of autumn, and I miss my hometown. The full range of New York looks fully different in autumn light. I want to stop by and make sure the geography and infrastructure are still there. The people don't really matter. They come and go. They don't know that Manhattan is a borough. They think they are worshipped by their families back in the Midwest for living in Park Slope. They think they are worshipped by pained artists and almost cool kids everywhere for living in Williamsburg. Sometimes I hate my education because it allows me to see these virulent monstrosities that dent the image and my own memory of the city. Working-class Queens life is just one tiny puzzle piece of the "eight million stories" of the city, fodder for the transplants to grab in their grubby hands and make sitcoms of.