I once met a man from New York named Jameson. We shared a drink at a pub in Milwaukee. He spoke at length of what strength inhabits those brave enough to live in the big city. His impression was given plenty of time to dry with each of his frequent visits to the bathroom. It was that same night that my friend Quinn taught me what the term “bump” meant.

On overcast mornings, some part of my better half subscribes its counterpart to believing that a city’s wealth is measured in the treasures it steals from its citizens. On the few beautiful mornings it feels worth considering , the city appears to be our treasure. In either event, I wonder whether they’ll outgrow the inflation rate. Above all, I’m terrified of New York City.

Be kind big city. My fear knows love.

Peter