When you visit New York for the first time, you feel as if you have always known it. Your eyes look up, down, left and right. Perhaps with the intention of finding in the memory those images already seen for who knows how many times on a television screen.
When instead you live in New York in a two-room apartment, in west Manhattan, your gaze goes beyond skyscrapers, parks or museums, and everything else. In the city where everything is at your fingertips, between the lights and noises of the streets crowded with thousands of cultures, it is easy to clash with people rushing from one part of the city to another, or on the contrary sitting and absent in the subway with their heads bowed over a newspaper. In the meritocratic navel of the world, you try to relate to people, to learn their habits and customs. But in the city that never sleeps everything moves fast, time is tyrant. Without realizing it, only a few moments turn into stories to imprint on canvas. Then the American dream vanishes.
