—Anonymous
The poem “To New York” by Leopold Sedar Senghor is very meaningful and relatable. My transition to New York 10 years ago from Nepal was synonymous with Senghar’s experience. The News and the media in Nepal portray New York as a Paradise on earth, with glamorous buildings, culture, and economy. Like every child, teens, and adults in Nepal, my dream too was to live in New York. Just like Senghor, “And full of despair at the end of skyscraper streets, Raising my owl eyes at the eclipse of the sun”. The first step into Manhattan felt like stepping into a jungle of steel, densely packed with cars, people, horns, and tall buildings. The buildings felt so tall that if one were to look up to the top, it felt like the hat would fall off my head. The sky-high buildings and culture of New York City were impressive but at the same time, it felt very lonely. Even though the city had more than 5 million people it still felt very lonely until I found my Harlem which was Jackson Height. The most diverse place with on Earth. It was a little world of its own with countless cultures, traditions, different restaurants, and buildings. Each block of Jackson Heights felt like a nation of its own. For instance, 74-76 street is heavily filled with South Asian restaurants and buildings. If you continue walking further down, one can experience South American culture through their restaurants, pubs, and shops. After reading this text, it jogged my memory of when I first arrived here and the humble beginning to a hustling bustling crazy city.
