Living in NYC is a constant reminder of your own smallness, insubstantialness and powerlessness in relation to the great crushing forces of capitalism and the ever flowing vast surges of humanity. On a bad day I despise the inconvenience, the inconsequentialness of my own tiny existence here. But on a good day I am empowered by the richness of the city's cultural fabric. Sometimes, when I am lucky, it feels as if an invisible benevolent hand is gently guiding me through the immense colorful chaos - preventing me from wallowing in my own ignorance and ethnocentricity - reminding me just how big and varied the world is.
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