…because of the handsome man taking your order in a little vegetarian diner in the east village, and serves you generous slices of thickly buttered, not-too-sweet, and incredibly good challah bread baked on premises.

…because of the creaky floorboards that groan under your weight while you browse shelves and rows and drawers of art supplies in a tiny art supply store that smells slightly of mold and linseed oil and unknown things that are older than you are.

…because of the subways that get you from one place to another without worrying about parking, car insurance, or gas. the gas the city saves for your apartment, and your wallet.

…because of the boulanger who makes the best croissants you’ve ever had, and which your older sister declares is made with margarine even as she wolfs down two pieces in five minutes and asks for more.

…because of the museums that you believe will help open your eyes to the rest of the world around you.

…because of little japan, k-town, chinatown, little italy, etc., so on and so forth.

…because the dogs who live here are as varied as the humans who live here.

…because when a friend comes to visit, you can show them some of the good things in and about your city, and they will want to stay to see the rest of it.

…because even when your city disappoints and saddens you, there’s enough good about it that makes it worth living in, and working in, and being in to make it even better than it was and is.