The City That Points to the Sky
Read in Spanish“These vagabond shoes are longing to stray, right through the very heart of it, New York, New York.”
Frank Sinatra
New York wasn’t just a destination. It was a way to get back on my feet.
I arrived in the midst of collapse, and the city welcomed me with its skyscrapers like open arms.
In the emotional freefall of my world, I landed in a city that points to the sky, and it took me in like a satellite.
Its verticality, in a way, held me up. The cold didn’t sting or bother me — it refreshed me.
Lost in its streets, no one asked why I was there. No one judged my story.
And in the midst of that immensity, I breathed… just a little.
Ever since, going back has become a way to remember that the world is bigger than the pain.
To me, New York isn’t a city — it’s a symbolic space.
It is and will always be a personal altar, where nothing weighs you down, and everything begins again.
This piece was originally published in Spanish. You can read the original version here.