Stepping down the steps of Brooklyn, I imagined a camera across the street capturing every moment of opening the door, stepping onto the stoop, smiling at the gorgeous sunny sky, then stepping down the stairs to the front gate.

An image I cultivated in my mind, that I always saw in the movies, I was living and experiencing. And escape from a difficult life in Little Rhody brought me to the Big Apple, a city I once always hated but appreciated.

This pilgrimage was the first thing I ever did for myself, soemthing I told myself I needed to do, even at the behest and disappointment of others. I needed an escape, even if I refused to call It tht. I needed to be on my own again, and find myself in a bustling city of forced extroverts, in a hub of theater and theatrics both inside and outside the music halls.

I did everything from shop, to eat, to explore, and think. Imagining myself not as a tourist, but what if I was a resident. I did everything and anything my budget would allow, and came home refreshed with a new form of purpose and longing to do better and be better at my craft.

The city I disposed became one I dreamed of coming to to keeping dreaming. Whatever takes me there I hope is fulfilling when I’m ready to make that dream a reality.