As I’ve mentioned many times, I’m an observer. Yes, it’s important to see the world through your own eyes without incessantly comparing your experience to that of those around you. It can be equally as important, though, to see something from someone else’s perspective. It’s one of the reasons we travel, after all.
I like to sit on a bench on the waterfront near my office and watch as tourists trickle by, posing in front of the Statue of Liberty and the Jersey skyline. Their faces alight when they see the water, especially on breezy days, when that particular part of the city feels entirely removed from the anxious bedlam at its Midtown center. The sun reflects in the churn of the waves. The sailboats tumble across the horizon. The tourists smile at each other. Sometimes, they visibly gasp.
How lucky they are, I tend to think, to be experiencing the city for, perhaps, the very first time. And I’m jealous. Of how new and exciting it all is for them. They’re bookmarking this moment. For me, it’s an unremarkable–albeit pleasurable–lunch break. New York City is home, and when a place is home, its discernible, poetic features tend to fade into a comfortable pastiche. Everything becomes ordinary, everyday.
And so I follow their gazes, and for a moment, I see it for the first time, too. And man, is it fucking beautiful.