He loved the city the way you loved a lover...an intimate. The way you were always a visitor but never home. Each trip revealed something new, something unique...the way a sunset reflected off of a particular window of a particular building...new colors, new scents. But there were constants...the same things that continuously brought him joy in his return.
The city was young enough to be beautiful, but old enough to carry it. And wear it well.
A lot of the city was unknown to him...she would not reveal. But what she did was lovely...and many times tender. A lot of times though she remained quiet, and leaving him guessing. And when he departed as he always did he wasn't ever sure if she would be found watching him disappear.
Even if time and space inserted itself between them his love for the city never waned. And stepping out from the steps of Penn Station he felt that familiar energy, the familiar heartbeat of this place he so strongly wanted to call home...but he would never arrive at that. It wasn't to be. It couldn't be. She kept her dark-eyed heart in the long concrete miles and soaring tops of buildings.
But while there she would provide, and she would reflect. And she would allow him to enter this little kingdom of Gotham and for awhile make him feel like he possessed a part of her.
He loved the city the way you loved a lover...a confidant. To anticipate the return...but never know quite when it would happen. Just knowing that it would and that he would feel the exact same thing that he always felt. However long ago it had been.
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