I walk fast, in New York there is always a place to be, a train to catch, someone to meet - so we walk fast. So much that even when you're not in a hurry you find yourself rushing through the streets, skillfully avoiding impact with all sorts of things. After doing this for some time you have become well acquainted with the concrete of the sidewalks, the puddles on the intersections, the crossing signals, and the most convenient subway entrances. Sadly, though, you haven't even noticed the beautiful architectural details in the pre-war structures, how beautiful central park really is or the fascinating make up of the the new york population.

Today the weather was as perfect as it gets and I was heading home from Manhattan's oh-so-posh Upper East Side. I was walking quite fast in fear that I would miss the earlier bus when I realized I was really in no rush. If I missed the bus I would simply have to enjoy the magnificent weather for another 10 minutes until the next one came. So I decided to walk slowly. I looked up and noticed how beautiful each building was, in all of their 1930's art-deco glory. I noticed what people were wearing and imagined their lives, I noticed the street lamps were different than the rest of the city and I noticed that the street numbers on the awnings of each building were spelled out in a unique type face from one another. I noticed the weather and I noticed myself.

My headphones roar a song that I haven't heard before but its melody is so powerful that it stirs my insides. A sudden sadness wraps my body -chills run down my spine and I suddenly feel like screaming or crying loudly as my body is cradled by a pre-war Upper East Side residential structure, my side resting on its limestone walls. Anxiety starts creeping in and feel an infinite loneliness. I start walking faster and notice nothing but the sidewalk and the streetlights. I hurry and catch the early bus. I let the city push my loneliness away and promise myself to never walk slowly again.