Selfportraits (Patreon)

Last month, we went to New York for a short working vacation. I wouldn’t say I was ready for another trip so soon, but Gary had some work there, and I needed to be there too.

I’d heard so much about New York over the years. People always described it as something completely different from the rest of America. Almost like Berlin in Germany — a place with its own personality, its own people, its own energy. It even seemed like, for many people, New York was America. Whenever someone said they dreamed about moving to the U.S., what they usually meant was New York.

Meanwhile, everything I knew about the city came from Home Alone 2 and Sex and the City. 😂 So yes, I knew the names of a few landmarks. And I knew it was built on islands. That’s about it.

Before arriving, I had one very specific wish. I just wanted to walk. On sidewalks. In a city where people actually walk on sidewalks. I know… A very strange dream. But hello, I’m someone who doesn’t have a driver’s license. Walking around a city has always been one of my favorite things.

From the very first moment, New York felt strangely familiar. Not visually. Emotionally. Like a huge, bright, living beehive where it’s wonderfully easy to disappear. A city where you could probably leave your apartment in yesterday’s pajamas, with a spectacular hangover, to buy bread…and the chances of running into your ex are basically zero.

I don’t know where this feeling comes from, but I’ve always loved the idea of being invisible among other people. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a relatively small city. Or maybe because I heard “What will people think?” a little too many times growing up.

I first felt that freedom in Kyiv. That’s probably one of the reasons I’ll always love it. Although, after enough years there… the odds of running into an ex at the supermarket became significantly less theoretical. 😂

New York was wonderful. The people. The food. The museums. The city itself. And even more than all of that… the way it made me feel.

But something surprised me.

I didn’t want to live there. After just a few days, I found myself wanting to go back to Texas. Maybe I’ve simply outgrown big cities. Maybe I no longer feel the need to constantly rush, achieve things, network, and chase whatever today’s version of “success” is supposed to look like. Or maybe living in Cabo San Lucas quietly turned me into Captain Fantastic. (If you haven’t seen the movie — I highly recommend it.) Or maybe I’m just in one of those periods where I want to disappear into a quiet little cave where nobody knows I exist.

Honestly… I’m not sure yet.

P.S. Gary, my love — the “running into your ex at the supermarket” part was just a metaphor. 😂 I don’t have any exes. You were my first…and you’re stuck with me.