I Now Pronounce You City and Life

A story of a girl and her surroundings.
life: Happy Birthday, Albert Einstein. Here’s Ralph Morse’s famous photograph of Albert Einstein’s office — just as the Nobel Prize-winning physicist left it — taken mere hours after Einstein died, Princeton, New Jersey, April 1955. (see more photos here)

life:

Happy Birthday, Albert Einstein.

Here’s Ralph Morse’s famous photograph of Albert Einstein’s office — just as the Nobel Prize-winning physicist left it — taken mere hours after Einstein died, Princeton, New Jersey, April 1955.

(see more photos here)

(via npr)

New home.

New home.

Leaving NYC: This city makes you feel as though you are living out the next great chapter of human history and in it you are woven inextricably in its romance. She loves you. There is no question there. But she is the most fickle, tenacious, and psychotic of woman. When she is good - she is so good. She wraps you in her arms and you believe you are the only one in the world for her. She makes you want to be the fullest version of yourself and she introduces you to all of the people and places that can realize that dream. She draws forth your creativity, inspiring you to write songs that sound the way you’ve always imagined your soul would sound.  She teases out of you the absolute best bits of you and puts them on display, for the whole world to admire. But when she is bad - she rips you open. She leaves you feeling so alone, so lost. She spends every last one of your dollars, quarters, nickels and dimes. In your darkest moments, weakest moments she seduces you, teasing you with the depths of her mystery. She owns every heart within her walls and make sure you know it. She abuses you, she makes your bones ache. She yells at you and screams, and you wonder if you even ever knew her at all. And then you remember riding bikes in the sun in sundresses through parks and across her mighty bridges and you remember seeing the Empire State shining in the morning light, and mornings, days and nights where she took your hand and let you feel her heartbeat and let it be your heartbeat too. So Dear New York — you’re a bitch, and you’re breaking my goddamn heart. The pieces are strewn from Bryant Park to the Williamsburg Bridge, from Brooklyn to Mott Haven and everywhere in between. And you can keep my shattered heart - its now more yours than it is ever was mine anyhow. k.

Leaving NYC:

This city makes you feel as though you are living out the next great chapter of human history and in it you are woven inextricably in its romance.

She loves you. There is no question there. But she is the most fickle, tenacious, and psychotic of woman.

When she is good - she is so good. She wraps you in her arms and you believe you are the only one in the world for her. She makes you want to be the fullest version of yourself and she introduces you to all of the people and places that can realize that dream. She draws forth your creativity, inspiring you to write songs that sound the way you’ve always imagined your soul would sound.  She teases out of you the absolute best bits of you and puts them on display, for the whole world to admire.

But when she is bad - she rips you open. She leaves you feeling so alone, so lost. She spends every last one of your dollars, quarters, nickels and dimes. In your darkest moments, weakest moments she seduces you, teasing you with the depths of her mystery. She owns every heart within her walls and make sure you know it. She abuses you, she makes your bones ache. She yells at you and screams, and you wonder if you even ever knew her at all.

And then you remember riding bikes in the sun in sundresses through parks and across her mighty bridges and you remember seeing the Empire State shining in the morning light, and mornings, days and nights where she took your hand and let you feel her heartbeat and let it be your heartbeat too.

So Dear New York — you’re a bitch, and you’re breaking my goddamn heart. The pieces are strewn from Bryant Park to the Williamsburg Bridge, from Brooklyn to Mott Haven and everywhere in between. And you can keep my shattered heart - its now more yours than it is ever was mine anyhow.

k.

Morgane, South Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Morgane, South Williamsburg, Brooklyn

Courtesy of Matthew Charles Frank.

Courtesy of Matthew Charles Frank.