Flying into New York always comes with a familiar sense of returning to a place that feels like home and in the most bizarre ways. Like when I step off the Air Train into the fray I get slapped with the resident smells of the city – if New York had a cologne it would be a mix of trash, laundry, pizza and dreams, both shattered and bourgeoning – and immediately feel at ease. Like slipping into a great pair of shorts I haven’t worn in a while but always feel so good on my balls. Continue reading “What’s New, York?” →