♪ ( winks in ur direction )
Send me a ♪ and I’ll write a little drabble on our muses based on a random song from my ITunes
♪ Galana - Elena Paparizou
Βγες ψυχή μου, φώναξε, γέλαΠιες, τραγούδα, ζήσε την τρέλαΜες στις φλέβες μου έρωτας κυλά
Vges psihi mou, fonakse, gela,Pies, tragouda, zise tin trelaMes stis fleves mou erotas kyla
Come out my soul, shout, laughdrink, sing, live the madnessin my veins love flows
Her visits were always both expected and unexpected, and his reception to them varied with his expectations as well. Sometimes (most of the time) she came for business. New York City business. Business that didn’t really (completely) involve him but he always made it his business anyways, one way or another.
Other times she would (he hoped) come because she wanted to see his wonderful, beautiful city. If that was her reasoning, then he’d oblige her. He hated tourists, but she wasn’t a normal tourist, now was she? She was special. Not because she was the capital (and not that he cared about that), but because she was interesting and fun and she was someone who didn’t immediately (deliberately) try to get on his nerves. That was something new and rare for him. He wasn’t going to let these chances pass him by, especially not when he could brag and show off the city (heart of the city) that he was so proud of.
If she came, he’d show her the diversity, the fun, the life that was Manhattan. He’d walk with her along Fifth Avenue, among the fashion that she so loved. He’d treat her to lunch or dinner at Chinatown and Little Italy. He’d move with her to the beat of the clubs and bars. He’d show her the peace of Central Park and the energy of Greenwich Village. He’d show her all of this in the time that she is here because the city never sleeps and neither do they.
And then, when she leaves, he’ll wait and hope that maybe they can do it again.