Red and yellow and green and blue and purple and black and white. Color after color whirls by in a wondrous and wild way. The soft hum of the motor vibrates my chair which makes a soft rattling noise that seems almost like a purr. Suddenly, I am thrown forward as the giant bus screeches to a halt. I then stand and tentatively take my first steps onto the streets of a completely new and exhilarating world. At first glance it is easy to tell that the "city that never sleeps" doesn't take its name lightly. Walking through the streets, it is slightly overwhelming at first. Everything catches my eye; each object is begging for attention. They're all screaming at me at the same time, and I’m hopelessly stuck in the middle of it all just trying the best I can to take everything in and adjust to this new atmosphere. Stepping into Times Square for the first time is very relatable to Dorothy stepping out into the magical land of Oz. Everything is so different from my Kansas - this place is so much more colorful and exciting. I feel as small as an ant standing in the middle of this larger-than-life city. Anything that lives within these few acres seems to be on supersize. The buildings can almost touch the sky, one store is multiple stories, even the food is larger here than usual. Eventually, I get over the initial shock and begin to recognize how exotically mesmerizing New York is. Although this concrete jungle is completely new, I can't help but feel at home here.

Apparently, these countless objects throughout the city weren’t enough evidence to prove that I was in a unique place. The people easily added to the whole package. Clip clop clip clop.

Heels and dress shoes constantly pound the pavement. I am surrounded by citizens whom are all so efficient and professional - they all know where they're going and exactly how they're going to get there. They all look relatively the same. Truly, they seem more like robots than people. Each individual has a routine – and nothing; or no one for that matter; will get in there way. And yet, every single person in the crowd has certain distinctiveness. Around every corner, there are peculiar street performers. Guitar players, dancers, singers, naked cowboys, clowns, contortionists. NYC has it all! The thing that especially catches my eye, however, is a glimmering gold statue. His features are so realistic – I’m sure he must have a heartbeat. I lean in closer to him and I see every wrinkle, crease, and detail of his face. His eyes are a chocolate brown –rich and soothing. They seem too vivid to be on a statue. As I get closer, I start to sense the faint smell of life. And by life, I mean sweat and hard work. Out of nowhere, the statue jumps up like a wind-up toy that has just been released, and glides down the street in a way that makes him look like he is flying instead of dancing. A blur of sparkling gold delicately rushes around in every direction possible. He leaps and turns to nothing but the music of the street - which seems to be enough. This performance instantly fills me with a bizarre sort of happiness. Watching him is enough to put me in my Halcyon Days. And then, just as quickly as he came to life, he became frozen and lifeless again. I can then hear the faint tinkle of coins being dropped into the small hat in front of him - rewarding him for his phenomenal performance. As the elegant and strange man walks away, I take another look at my surroundings. There are vividly colored billboards everywhere I turn. Each inch of space is decorated with pictures of the “next big thing”. I see endless pictures of Broadway shows – all having that same flashy and showy appearance. Each one is trying to outshine the other in some way or another. One board fills an entire building – secretly trying to persuade us they’re the best because bigger is better. Another poster stands out not because of its size, but because it sticks out like a sore thumb. The colors in it are so vibrant; it draws everyone’s eyes to it immediately. The third has no crazy size or extreme colors, but it does have words written all over it, showcasing all the achievements its show has been awarded. I guess those banners know what they’re doing, because for the most part, I can’t seem to really focus on anything. It seems to fly by me in a blur as I amble through the busy streets. It is then that I turn to my ears to guide me. I can now hear the noisy taxi-cabs constantly barking at each other for no reason. Everything at once seems to hit me like a ton of bricks. It’s almost too much to handle. I feel like I just stepped out of a fairytale book into the real world where nothing is scripted or planned.

As I unsuccessfully try to calm myself, I look to my right and come to a realization. No one here sincerely appreciates this place. When you’re in New York, or any place for that matter, for a certain amount of time, you stop noticing all the small but significant that makes this city magical. I bet no one here even bothers to notice the old man with the long grey beard sitting to my right in the corner. His raggedy clothes are so tattered and filled with holes – it’s a wonder he survives in the wintertime. Age and exhaustion of this man is clear from feet away. Strangely, I’m not taken aback by him. In fact, I find myself tentatively taking steps towards him – entranced by him. As I look closer at him, I see he is missing most of his teeth. His skin is caked with dirt and grime; it’s almost impossible to find the face covered by this mask of filth. His only attractive feature is his eyes. His eyes are an ocean of blue. They are a bright blue, like the sky is at midday. They twinkle and dance in the sunlight. They are full of life – both the joys and the sorrows. They are filled with experience. When I look into his eyes, I know and understand everything he’s been through. I know the hard-ships and sacrifices he’s had to make just by looking into his eyes. I can see the loneliness that lingers there. But, over all of this, in his eyes I see hope. Hope that someday, he will be able to eat a meal that he earned entirely himself without having to beg for anything. I watch him as he watches a father and daughter parole aimlessly around the streets. Her sticky, nubby little fingers grasp tightly onto his strong, bulky pinky. You can see the older man longing for the day he can have a family of his own. For now, he is trying everything he can to get some recognition and maybe a little bit of love and support – that’s all he really wants. Sadly, people pay no attention this this and continue to whiz by clicking their heels or stomping their feet without even glancing at this poor man who wants nothing more than a smile. I crouch down to him, and immediately see he is stunned, but at the same time thrilled. He follows my hand as I reach into my purse, fumbling through as I feel around for my wallet. I take a crisp 5 dollar bill out and hand it to him. To my amazement, he locks his ocean eyes with mine, and simply nods his head no. The fact that I acknowledged his presence and showed him kindness was enough for him. I nod, smile, and slowly stand back up. I watch as he smiles his toothless yet kind grin at me before I slowly walk away. It’s really the small things in life that make a difference. For him, being shown an ounce of kindness meant the world to him.

As I walk away, I see Times Square in a whole different light. Before, it was chaotic and exhilarating. Now, I can pay attention to each specific detail. I see each perfectly imperfect crack in the sidewalk. I see the buildings that are so fresh with paint; you can see it shine in the sunlight. The billboards that were blurs before now become clear as day, and I look at The Lion King poster and really notice how the colors fade from yellow to orange to pink to red – exactly like a sunset in the sky would do. The honks from the bright yellow taxi-cabs in the street seemed less obnoxious now and more like music. I can now see this astonishing part of the world for what it truly is – it is unique, and in its own way, it is magical.