Whenever I pass the Dakota, I look for someone who seems to live there, but there are only tourists or cars driving in--until this young woman greeted and was greeted by the guard and then walked right in. (The dog is real, by the way.)
In "Here is New York," E. B. White identifies three New Yorks: the city of the people born here; that of the commuter; and--"the greatest"--that of the person born somewhere else who comes here "in quest of something."
I think there is a fourth New York, mine: that of someone who grew up here, moved away, and then--finally!--comes back.
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