My father sent me quite a few pictures from his trip to New York City. They were enough a taste for me to form an impression. All images taken by my father's phone, probably while he was walking, so the quality isn't fit for any fancy magazines, but they provide a mortal view of an incredible place, which I like more.
I got the feeling that NYC was a place where life itself had coiled around and still writhes. It was so big yet had none of the overly commercialized trash of L.A.. There were little pubs and stores, but all larger than the indie feel of Seattle, as is right given the success one must gain from business in such a huge city. It was as though they had grown up but decided to stay cool. And the doors on that one embassy!! Solid Gold!!? The world did all rumble into NYC. Identities sprouting up not by some geographic rhythm, but where ever there was room. It was just ballsy to see some tower proclaim "Yeah, I'm Gothic" while the neighboring one wasn't the least bit shy to claim modern stylings. All these icons standing tall with no regard for anything else.