I’m jealous of people who love nature because I don’t. I like it. I hardly seek mountains, hillsides, forests, parks, etc. for refuge or inspiration. The only exception is deserts. I love deserts because they’re detested to a certain degree. Yet, place me in the middle of a city with a multitude of graffiti-stained walls and I feel like Augustus at Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. But something occurred to me today: Is it passé to love a scene like above in a place like New York?

Look in the mirror here.