My old stomping ground, on the street of NY.

The smell of Chinese food filled in my nostrils, the smeared dog shit on the sidewalk seems to never wash away, and the scene on 85th street in Woodhaven hasn’t changed. The sweeping of the sidewalk, the piled garbage and the smell of the blossoming trees brought me back to my old stomping grounds. I’ve walked this route a million times, never noticing the little things that make this habitat unique to its origin. This time is different; I am inhaling the new from the old. My eyes are wide open and my mind is blazing with million thoughts. I observe everything carefully and I must say — This place hasn’t changed.

The smell of CK One perfume came around as a Hispanic man sat right next to me on the “J” train. — Ah, I know this smell, if smells can only tell a story, it sure ignited a familiar feeling. I can’t help but to stare, everybody is looking down, they are all tuned into they own world, headphones are in, the bopping of the head is on. Am I the only white person on this train? The Afro-Americans, how I have not had much recent contact with the black folks, they don’t travel much, it’s new so I stare with curiosity.
I think this lady is Mexican — I am guessing each feature to its culture. Been all around the world, individually taking in all the cultures only to come back to NYC and realizing that they are all here, they were always here, yet now I am more conscious of my surroundings.   
I landed in one of the most energy created metropolitan in the world, New York City. It has a fast hidden paste that I noticed once I stopped and observed as the daily energy is created by moving yellow taxis, rushing people and the humming pump of the city’s heart. If we can only store and reuse this metropolitan collection of elevated vibrations for future use, perhaps we can avoid gas hikes. The heat, the contrast the uniqueness gets all mixed up and it creates unity of one powerful movement. I am back into it.
I love New York City. The people are truly beautiful, the architecture, the culture, and the freedom to be who you are. The chubby, the skinny, the pretty and the freaky all found in one aisle. I missed this place, and I am glad to be strolling on back, it seems all new to me. A different perspective, a bird’s eye view from the ground, from my old stomping ground.
Sushi! Is what I craved the most, first meal of the day and last. I can’t get enough; it is its energy that is feeding me back to reality of what I am really doing here. I love it, yet I have mix emotions. — Why did I come back? What am I really doing here? Is this really where I belong? I don’t want to be here. Surely, it’s awesome here, oh how I missed this place. What’s next?
My friends and family? So good to see them all, no one has changed, did I change? I notice more negativity, why are they complaining so much? The fear of living is present, the fear by media, money and accomplishments all plays in the conversations. Perhaps it was always like that, self-conscious of what others think, what is the right way to live. The white picket fence fantasy has seemed to never leave; “the ideal way” is what people seem to think. 
With all my travels with all my recent experiences I can’t help but to think that I feel a bit free. Freedom Tower it’s a bit more higher. I no longer feel attached to the materialistic world of the better gadget. I let go of what society thinks who I should really be, I am free from the acceleration, I no longer feel the joy of bling bling shinning car’s 5thgear. Like in meditation I acknowledge the thought, the situation and I don’t linger, I move on because I want to be free from all that people might formulate one should be.
So I will keep moving, with every step I see different, with every inhalation I take in the new and I exhale the unwanted while striving for what I want.
What is it that I now really want? I am confused. But I think what I want is what I have; the present is where I am at. No plans, no obligations just me myself and I, on the streets of NY.