Smith 1

Cason Smith

English 1101

Professor Bellinger

30 October 2018

City of Diversity

On the hectic streets with the sound of engines and horns screaming in my ear, as if I

aren’t giving it enough attention, dwell the most extraordinary people. In New York City

diversity is normal and normal is strange.

Not only does the smell of hotdog carts make me breathe in like a baby taking its first

breath, but the feeling of standing on the sidewalks staring up at the buildings kissing the clouds

make me also feel like a baby taking its first steps. I was so small yet so open to the opportunity

of the adventure of a lifetime. It felt as if I was born again and had to relearn everything in this

brand new world.

Standing in the bitter cold, I look to my left and standing on the sidewalk in front of the

jewelry store was a blond haired woman in nothing but her underwear; no shirt, no coat, not even

a bra. My eyes were raped and my mind was scarred but the look in her eyes and the way she

smirked at her audience told me that she was not ashamed of her imperfections, and she was not

afraid to be different.

A few blocks down, I waited in line for a Broadway

musical; it felt as if I were waiting for Christmas while still in

January. Once in, I look up and my eyes were grasped the

beautiful architecture and woodwork of the theatre. The Bernadette Peters in Hello Dolly
 Smith 2

chandeliers hang from the ceiling like giant stars in the sky and the curtain hangs with them

waiting to open and give way to Bernadette Peters performing in Hello Dolly. She walks out

with steps of power demanding the audience’s attention. There she was, the image of prosperity

and opportunity.

That same bitter night in the subway were three men with nothing but a couple

instruments and a jar for money. The man with long, black hair tapped on a single drum as his

friend to the left strummed a rugged, half- tuned guitar. In the front of the triangle was a tall,

unkempt man with an unexpectedly soothing voice. The sound of their trio echoed along the

walls of the subway tunnels magnifying the

formation of surround sound. The subway train

squealed its high pitched breaks obscuring the

sound of the men. Their talents, each diverse in

their own way, were never to be held by my

ears again. New York Subway

Days later, I stare out of the tall windows of the

old dance studio in Manhattan waiting for my lessons to begin. This narrow building for

Dramatic Arts was almost as original and diverse as the people filling it. The stairs were as steep

and tough as the journey of those in the building who made something of themselves. The bricks

on the outside were as strong as the dancers, yet the mats of the floors were as soft as their

hearts.

In the sleepless city of New York there is never a person who is similar to the next, there

is never a building as stunning as the one beside it, and there is never a day similar to the last.

And as the airplane ascends, I look out of the window to see the gateway to freedom; freedom of
 Smith 3

the heart, freedom of expression, and the freedom to be oneself.

New York City Overview