The article explores the author's complex relationship with New York City, revealing a love-hate dynamic influenced by personal vulnerabilities. While some perceive New York's chaos as overwhelming, the author recognizes it as an integral part of the city's allure. The narrative reflects on family connections and childhood experiences, including the contrasting views of the author's grandmother who felt the city was unfit for a sensitive child. Ultimately, it highlights the sacrifices made by city dwellers for the unique vibrancy New York offers.
All this may seem to imply some deeper judgment about the city-that I think it's wanton and unregulated, a 'Where's Waldo?' of Boschian perversion.
It took me years to understand that most people accept New York's mayhem as some kind of toll, a small price to pay for the panoply of delights available to them at a moment's notice.
How many Hollywood movie plots hinge roughly on the idea that the hero will do anything, anything at all, not to be shipped back to the suburbs?
My late grandmother-my primary confidant, whose house in rural Connecticut I considered to be the apex of peace-would sometimes shake her head and tell my parents to get me out of the city.
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