I feel sorry for people who are from New York because they'll never experience going there for the first time.  I'm still digesting much of the trip, and the impression the city made upon me is overwhelmingly favorable.  If I'd gone in August with its humidity, aroma, and commensurate attitudinal changes in the people, I might be less enthusiastic.  The same could be true if I'd been there for a blizzard.  But Manhattan in the cool of spring has wowed me.

For a photographer the place is a feast.  I walked along the streets gulping in face after face after face.  The pace, the flow of humanity, the friction created a force of extroversion that seemed to rinse off timidity and free my eye to look and look some more.  A wonderful feeling, easy to get lost in.

In the romancing of a new place, I am in mid-blush.  I caught New York when she was happy, dressed in a green spring sweater and ready to be kissed.  I remember not so long ago when she had to place ads for herself pitching that she was clean now, promising not to stray if only you'd pick up the tab on a hotel room and a show.  So yeah, I'm in love.  And like a frustrated teenager I can't begin to tell you how wonderful I think she is, how she's perfect for me, and how I think I really understand her.

So rather than going on and on in my diary just now, let me show you some pictures from our time together. 

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