New York

I was a budding bookworm in the Big Apple. A river of people rushing past was such a blur for a girl so small. This ocean pulls you in and spits you out like a bad sunflower seed. In a concrete jungle, people live in boxes on top of boxes. The sea of cars is always moving. Even at an age when everything was handed to me, there was no yellow brick road for me to follow, only sidewalks going every which way.