What do you think about when you think about New York? Let me guess: Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, apples, Sex and the City, yellow cabs, Central park, Central Perk, Broadway. Have I covered it all? Even if not, I’m pretty sure I hit the most popular ones.

People are hypnotized by New York, drawn to it, they love it from afar hoping that once they get here the love will be mutual.

My New York is Brooklyn. And if Manhattan is a cultural identifier, financial capital, and a symbol of a fancy, fast-paced life, then Brooklyn is the cultural grinder, a place where America, once it gets there, gets lost in the noise of other cultures or stands face to face with its most exaggerated and magnified self.

You’d think that a train that only takes half an hour to bring you over the bridge would make it easy for you to be a part of that fancy New York. But then, you know, when living in Brooklyn, Central park is as far from you as if you live in Siberia. Also, no train can bring you closer to the new culture. It’s the road you have to walk, every single step of it. I’ve been walking since June 2006, when I landed in New York for the first time in my life, and I have learnt a couple of things on the way. This is a new chapter, thanks to Atlas Corps, I keep on walking. Those things are personal perceptions and in no way do I want to say they have anything to do with reality. So take it with a grain of salt.