The Giant Concrete Apple of my Eye

My hair reeks of New York City subway stations and my body feels like acid rain from wandering streets where the sidewalks glitter, sparkle, and shine under flashing lights and roving tourists. I'm filled with day dreams and fantasies of Washington Square Park and SoHo as my playground, 5th Avenue my weakness, and a 2-person room as my retreat from an insomniac city in a realm that matches no other, transcending space and time. This will be my world: a cacophony of traffic will be my soundtrack; mental snapshots of chess players and mock-monuments and non-odditites will be in the liner notes and essentially form a motion picture of Hollywood proportions that is currently being scripted but still yet to be titled.