Every once in a while, a desire to relive New York City comes bursting out of my chest. You can almost call it a secret longing for drama, or a normally suppressed affinity to streets with higher-octave noise. Came prepared, I arrived with the mindset that I can’t get to see everything I would like to see, and I can’t take away all the things I have seen; When the vastness and the multi-dimensionality of a place defies such irrational expectations, I resolve to feel secure in the buddhist teachings by raveling in the many possibilities in the mind of someone who had only just begun.

   The flight was delayed for more than 3 hours. According to FAA regulations, after sitting on the runway for close to 3 hours, the aircraft was taxied back to the boarding gate. Far more importantly, however, is when I realized upon landing that even after such dreadful journey, I was filled with anticipation and excitement when I saw the city's skyline.

   Without a doubt, walking with a camera makes one pay more attention -- pay better attention; it hones the skill of observation. Many interesting things happen without ever being noticed, be it on the street, in a conversation, or in a book.

   Manhattan alone seems to have countless neighborhoods previously unknown to me; if I made my own atlas, it would be full of terra incognitas. This time it's NOHO and East Village.

  We are drawn to a place because of some people it facilitated and nurtured. Working from his Brooklyn studio, the violin luthier Sam Zygmuntowicz made it clear how sexy craftsmanship can be, and how it's only natural to "care more and more about less and less" in one's artistic journey. ¹

  Of course, any amount of romanticization cannot help an idealized place survive a real-world contact. Like any interesting person, Brooklyn contains multitude, and the artist-filled coffee shops only constitute a tiny fraction of its cultural sphere. Watching the curiously countless Hasidic Jewish men in their uniforms - dark suits, top hats and beard - going about their daily business, I barely had the bandwidth maintaining a conversation with my Uber driver who steadfastly tries to convince me that the barbecue from his hometown is just so great ... in Mandarin.

   Brooklyn downtown's McNally Jackson ² is one of the most good-looking bookstores I've seen. Buying books on a trip is a complicated calculus: Every book I pick will add to the weight of the already too heavy luggage, forcing me to raise the quality bar considerably. I sense some of sort of life lesson in this.

   With infinite ways to improve, a work of art is never done, it's only abandoned. Likewise, any travel is both unfinished and unfinishable.

San Francisco. 07/2023