What is your favorite place?

I was running late. I sprinted to the subway station on 86th, swiped my MetroCard and ran down to the express train platform. Luckily, the train had just arrived, and I slipped through the closing doors. It was 7:00 p.m., and the train was filled with fascinating people. Most were getting off work, others were dressed up for rendez-vous with friends. I transferred to the L train at Union Square, and then hailed a cab. Thirty minutes after I left, I was running across the 23rd St entrance to the high line.

I have spent the last several summers in New York City with my uncle. This summer I met Hanna, a senior at Spence School. She invited me to explore the city with her. We made plans to go to the high line: an elevated train track that was converted to a park that stretches over a mile across the city.

As I approached the stairway that led up to the high line, I looked up and saw Hanna and her brother, Richard, waving. They told me they saw someone running across the street and knew it must have been me. We walked down to Chelsea market and browsed all of the restaurants inside. We chose Bar Suzette, a little one that offered a wide variety of sweet and savory crèpes. Then, we walked through the vibrant streets of Chelsea back to the high line.

The sun was setting over the Hudson River. Hanna called it “golden hour.” First, the clouds turned pink like cotton candy. Then, as the sun lowered further, a spectrum of colors stretched across the sky in the order of the rainbow. We walked and talked and looked. Walking between the flowers and plants on the sides of the path was serene. At the same time, it felt alive, there were so many other people: tourists, cute couples, amateur astronomers, an artist. We walked the entire length of the high line. Of course, we had a photo-shoot too, taking embarrassing selfies and asking friendly-looking tourists to take our picture. Then, we took an Uber back home to the Upper East Side. I was home by 9:00 p.m., only two hours after I'd left in such a hurry, even though it felt as though I’d spent the entire evening exploring the high line.

That’s the effect of the city. Everything moves so quickly and time feels frozen all at once. Every moment lingers: the subway ride, the crèpes from Chelsea Market, the Tuesday evening stroll. But when you get back, the clock on the microwave says it’s only been two hours, and you’re already home. I felt a renewed sense of gratitude and motivation upon arriving home. I’m fortunate to have experienced such a beautiful part of the city–the high line felt so grand–and to think that it’s only one tiny piece of the world! That night, I laid in bed until 3:00 a.m., thinking about how much fun I had and all of the possibilities of other things to do. The high line is my favorite place now. I think about that evening often and remind myself of how much there is to learn and try. But I am going back to New York this summer, and I hope to find some of my new favorite places then.