Life in New York teaches you to resist any romanticism
Life in New York teaches you to resist any romanticism, even if it’s because of romanticism that you have come to New York. Except for a few weeks in autumn, the weather is merciless. You stare blankly at a subway platform some night when you’re coming home late after a delicious dinner or a wonderful concert and you see a giant rat on the tracks. If you don’t tip enough in a restaurant, the waiter or waitress, who a moment before smiled at you and encouraged you to call him or her by name, will storm out behind you demanding an explanation and at least fifteen percent of the bill. The free cab that you thought was coming slowly toward you will be snatched out from under your nose by a lady who has stepped in front of you on the sidewalk. If you don’t go down the subway stairs as fast as you can, you’ll be elbowed aside by someone who’s in a bigger hurry than you are. The expert eye educated in New York quickly discovers the negative or shoddy side of what on the surface is impeccable.
— Antonio Muñoz Molina, Your Step on the Stairs. Trans. by Curtis Bauer. (Other Press, April 8, 2025)











