Losing sleep in the city that never sleeps

By Leah Astore

Tourists absorb the controlled chaos of Times Square. Leah Astore photo.

It’s hard to go back to suburbia after spending time in the city. I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, so a “city that never sleeps” is a place where I feel right at home.

Waking up in the morning to the sound of life waiting for you just outside is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. The sun illuminates the brownstone through the haze. Skyscrapers like mirrors reflect the warmth of the start of a sunny day. There’s nothing more inviting.

It’s such a great feeling to step out of your hotel and take a walk down the street and know that there is everything you could possibly want or need a footstep away. It’s like the city is a work of art by Andy Warhol and Vincent van Gogh. Primary colors and swirling madness. The city is loud, in color and in sound. From the bright lights to the constant honking of horns and the calls from the corner of every street, “Handbags,” “Bus Tickets.” It’s overwhelming but fantastic. You are never bored. Something or someone is always engaging you.

I took a walk in Times Square by myself. A slew of emotions swirled inside of me: nervous, excited, free. Eventually the steady flow of stop and go at each crosswalk became natural, like I’d been doing it for years.

It’s safe to say that it didn’t take long for the city to rub off on me. The scents, good and bad, enticed me. The sound of horns beeping and the occasional siren all became background noise. At night, lying on the fountain in front of Lincoln Center, I even saw the stars.

The city is more than what everyone says it is. Inspiration is there for those who let it find them. I found it in New York City.

Leah Astore is a Comment staff writer.

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