Maybe my last New York.

Maybe.

After that Michigan trip, the move to Michigan became official.

So before leaving, I figured I should do one more round of New York and New Jersey.

Places I had become very attached to, without really noticing how attached until I was preparing to leave.

New York and New Jersey are complicated.

Crowded.

Convenient.

Slightly exhausting.

And if I want Korean food at 10 p.m., there is probably something within reach.

This is a very difficult standard to give up.

So I went out one more time.

First—

drawing class in Central Park!!!

I took a perspective drawing class that day.

And wow.

Apparently I have been looking at objects and backgrounds with an extremely narrow little brain.

Very humbling.

I had always thought:

yes, I see chair.

I draw chair.

Done.

Then someone actually explains perspective and suddenly you realise you have been looking at the entire physical world like a person with one functioning eye.

People who are genuinely good at drawing???

Respect.

The way they break down an image, decide what matters, understand space, and then somehow put it back together on paper—

wild.

I came out of one class approximately 14% more educated and 63% more aware of my limitations.

Excellent.

Then I went somewhere and had coffee.

Where?

No idea lol.

I have photographic evidence.

That is apparently enough.

Then Guggenheim.

Did one full spiral around again.

The exhibition at the time was mostly trees, plants, nature, that kind of thing, so it was easy to look at.

Very gentle.

No need to stand in front of something for ten minutes pretending I understood why a chair was upside down.

Plants.

Trees.

Light.

Great.

Thank you.

Then yoga at St. Mark’s.

And wow.

If you stop doing yoga, your body remembers NOTHING.

Absolutely nothing.

I used to be able to do a handstand at maybe 70%.

SEVENTY PERCENT.

There was a time when I was almost a person who could handstand.

Now my body receives a basic instruction and responds:

no ❤️

I miss old me.

Old me had core strength.

Current me has memories.

Need to exercise.

Then I went to ARTECHOUSE for the Rolling Stone exhibition.

Which was fun!!!

But honestly— the photos are much better lol.

At this point, unless projection art has some genuinely special event attached to it, I’m starting to wonder why I need to physically travel somewhere to stand inside a very large animated screen.

I understand the concept.

I have been immersed.

Thank you.

But one thing DID make it more interesting this time.

Because I had taken the art class the day before, I started noticing things differently.

Light.

Colour.

How something is framed.

Where the eye gets pulled first.

What the artist chose to exaggerate.

What gets left empty.

The composition itself.

Before, I would mostly look at something and think:

pretty.

Or:

not pretty.

Sophisticated criticism.

Now I could at least start seeing a little bit of how the image had been built.

Which made looking at art more fun.

Like suddenly someone gave me subtitles.

Not full subtitles.

Maybe auto-generated captions with 70% accuracy.

But still.

Progress.

Then perfume shop.

I smelled a million perfumes in person.

And then bought them online.

As one should.

The store provides the sensory research.

The internet provides the discount.

Everyone has a role.

Then I ate everything that makes people gain weight.

Gelato on the street.

Bread.

Coffee.

Tanghulu.

Probably more things I have conveniently forgotten.

Very balanced urban diet.

Walking around New York again, I kept thinking—

there really isn’t another city in America that does this.

Not in the same way.

Every block has something.

A shop.

A restaurant.

A gallery.

Something weird.

Something expensive.

Something very cheap.

Something you absolutely did not need to see but are somehow glad you saw.

You turn one corner and suddenly there are ten reasons to stop walking.

There is just so much stuff.

So many people.

So much food.

So much happening all at once.

It is exhausting.

And extremely hard to replace.

For maybe the first seven years after I came to America, every time I visited New York or Manhattan—even just occasionally—I would get SO excited.

Like actual little kong-kong heart.

I would come into the city and think:

I HAVE TO LIVE HERE AT LEAST ONCE.

At least once.

Definitely.

That felt almost like a promise I had made to myself.

Which is why it’s a little funny now.

Because I never really did.

Not properly.

And I don’t feel devastated about it.

That might be the strangest part.

I think I changed a lot.

Or maybe the things I wanted changed before I noticed they had changed.

When I was younger, New York itself felt like the destination.

Just being here seemed like it would mean something.

Now I can spend a day here, look at the museums, eat too much, smell perfume I’m going to buy cheaper online, take a yoga class, complain about projection art—

and then go home.

Very normal.

Very peaceful, actually.

Then came moving preparation.

One last New Jersey view.

Boxes everywhere.

Things slowly disappearing from where they had always been.

And before going to Michigan—

NAENGMYEON.

Obviously.

This was important.

I had been mildly upset the entire time I was in Michigan because I couldn’t get proper naengmyeon.

This is the kind of hardship nobody discusses when they romanticise moving.

Where is the cold noodle infrastructure.

So:

eat naengmyeon.

Then Michigan.

That was the plan.

And honestly, leaving New York and New Jersey, I felt like I had received so much more than I had ever really earned or expected.

Good people.

Good opportunities.

A lot of help.

A lot of luck.

A lot of weird little experiences that only make sense because I happened to be living around here.

Even the years when I was working and surrounded by Koreans in New York and New Jersey—

drinking with friends my age all the time,

playing badminton,

meeting people,

going out,

coming home late—

that was a really happy period too.

Just a different kind of happy from now.

At the time, I probably thought happiness looked exactly like that.

People around me.

Noise.

Plans.

Dinner.

Drinks.

Something happening tomorrow.

Now it looks a little different.

Maybe more space.

More quiet.

More driving.

More lake.

Apparently also more bugs.

We make compromises.

And the strange thing is—

if someone asked me whether I think I’ll move back here one day,

my instinct says probably not.

Which surprises me.

Because for such a long time, this area felt like somewhere I was trying to get closer to.

And now I’m leaving without feeling like I’m being pulled backwards.

That doesn’t make me love it less.

Maybe that’s the part I didn’t understand before.

You don’t have to stay somewhere forever for it to have been yours.

Some places belong very strongly to one version of your life.

And maybe that’s enough.

New York was once the place that made my heart race because I wanted to arrive.

Now I can walk through it without needing anything from it.

I can just like it.

Eat something.

Look around.

Remember.

Go home.

That feels different.

Not sad, exactly.

Just finished in a quiet way.

The future is still impossible to predict.

Obviously.

I have demonstrated very little ability to predict even my own next state.

So I’m not going to pretend I know where I’ll end up.

But maybe that’s fine.

For now, I just want to keep liking the things around me while they’re around.

People.

Places.

Small routines.

Whatever happens to be important at the moment.

Use them properly.

Love them properly.

Then when something changes, let it change.

I think I’m already doing that.

Anyway.

One more New York.

Maybe the last.

Maybe not.

But enough for now.