As I stood on top of the Empire State building last Tuesday night, I couldn’t help but think of all the great love stories that have ever been written, lived, or lost in the city that slept below me. Romance is to Manhattan what glamour is to Hollywood and if nothing else, that is what I love most about this city.
The summer air felt warm without being distastefully hot and I could feel the humidity heavy on skin. As my eyes stretched passed the concrete and out into the midnight hour, my mind couldn't help but wander.
Love—the exact element of life that keeps us living—has played itself out here in cafés and coffee shops, park benches, and street corners, time and time again. This city houses some of the greatest love stories of all time and in my opinion, specifically Central Park is unapologetically the most romantic place on earth. When I walk through it every night after work I can’t help but think of When Harry Met Sally, Serendipity, One Fine Day...the list goes on. It's here the romance lies--in the American Elms that line the Literary Walk, in the boats floating around the still waters, and of course, in the horse-drawn carriages that meander through the quiet paths at night.
From the Empire State building, it was interesting to stare down on a crossroad—an intersection—of so many lives, all moving in different directions, yet all trying to get to the same place. It’s daunting to see the number of windows and rooftops, all telling their own stories—their own love stories. It’s a true testament to human nature. We long to be individuals among the masses. We live and love for each other more so than ourselves. We define our existence by existing next to one another. We live for love and here, among the yellow taxis and the grey-suit, corporate world; we continue to search for it.
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