Either Manhattan is not the city I thought it was or I’m not the girl I thought I was. Either way, I give up. As much as I have projected onto the tiny island as a city of romance, dreams and glamour, whenever I am actually there I find it cramped, dirty and inorganic. Everyone is a transplant and though beautiful things such as art, fashion and cuisine do thrive there, the pursuit of them seems more like a celebration of the next big thing than a true celebration of hedonism. I realize now that the things I wanted from my dream life in New York are all things I can provide for myself: art, beauty, glamour, pleasure and success.

Goodbye, NYC. I hardly knew ye.