The Manhattan skyline used to mean promise, adventure, endless possibilities to me. The other night, strolling along the soon-to-be-completely-obscured-by-luxury-high-rise-buildings river bank in Williamsburg, I realized that, while I still see those things, I also see a place powered by people locked up in florescent cubicles, spending the majority of their waking hours pursuing a career that they don’t really want.
Now I understand why people grow bitter about New York.
(But don’t worry — I’m not quite there yet.)
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