New York

New York feels like any old European city. It has a resemblance to London. It also resembles Paris, or Prague, Milano or Geneva, Madrid or Vienna, Stuttgart or Copenhagen.
Any part of the city could introduce one to any worthwhile historical experience one could desire. I don't think any other city in the world compares to that.
Walking on those streets I could smell familiar scents. I stopped on benches in random parks. I talked to people about life. One particular woman, highly educated, talked to me for about 2 hours and we learned we had a lot in common. She was from California and moved to new York for work. She was in therapy, like any self respected New Yorker. She was the survivor of a series of unsuccessful relationships, that left her wondering how much can she indulge in masochistic, self destructive behavior. She had clever insights about entertainment, politics, society and culture. We agreed on the sad fact that we are doomed to figuring out and pay the expenses of the most significant relationship we have in our lives: the one with our parents. This particular fact made me wonder if some people just give up on figuring it out, before they go crazy. Some other people, instead of figuring it out, prefer to complicate matters by building a new family of their own, where they can play out known patterns to exhaustion of selves and other unfortunate souls. This inevitably brings me to wondering: will I ever feel ready to have a family of my own? Or will I continue thinking about how daddy did me wrong until the day I die?
Sometimes I think about having kids. I'm tempted to think about being a better parent than mine were. Some other times, I'm humbled when I see kids throwing tantrums and mothers too exhausted to even care. I fear that I may be the same and give up right then and there the mere fantasy of ever having a family. What if, along the way of being a parent, I would discover I am just like my parents, when I centered my life on being different than they are? That would be another painful humiliation added to those I already lived at their hands.
I like my alone time. I like silence. Kids don't agree with these selfish concepts. Will I be willing to give, give, give forever? Not likely.
I walked on the cobble stone streets in Soho and bought myself a black cashmere sweater. It was raining heavily and I walked inside a Crocs store. They were advertising some new Crocs and they gave me a free pair just for smiling on camera. That made my day. I love New York!