I just moved to the bustling and frigid city. The streets are always crowded and people are always trying to get from point A to point B. There are always mixed smells in the air. You might get a whiff of a street cart selling food, and the next thing you know, you’re smelling someone’s cigar a few seconds later. Fumes from passing vehicles are always in the mix as well. Sometimes, while walking, you feel a sudden rush of heat pass your face. They’re from vents placed on the ground that lead to the underground metal beasts that run all day and all night, the subways.

The subways hold a viscous mystery about them. Waiting in the tunnel, you hear a loud clap of wind approaching you. The clap seems to get louder, and you look down the tunnel hoping the train is arriving. However, your gaze falls upon darkness. Out of nowhere, two headlights appear as the ground shakes. The force the train races down the track with breaks the settled air ahead of it. An immense gush of wind slaps across your face as the subway passes by.

When its doors open, a crowd of people departs as you walk in. Within a few seconds, it picks up speed again and moves on to the next destination.

Anyone and everyone rides the subway. Sometimes, you see homeless people at the end of the cart wrapped up in a blanket lying on the seats. Not far from them is a mother and two children or a businessman minding his own business. The lights in the train flicker at times. You move at the mercy of its speed. Once you arrive at your destination, you go up the steps and enter into the world above.

The tall buildings hold a sort of mystery about them as well. You never know what is around the corner. There might be construction workers facilitating traffic, a large sofa getting shipped into an apartment, or someone dressed up as a Marvel character waving at you. Most commonly, you see someone smoking a cigar with one leg braced up against the building. They have a grim look on their face as they stare at you. They speak so many words with their eyes but never with their mouths.

Buried in the skyscrapers are the mom and pop stores. The stories on how each one got there are unique and one-of-a-kind. The tiny sushi shop on 5th Avenue exists because, in 1969, a man moved from Japan to the States. He took his family along with him. None of them spoke a word of English. He decided to take his shot at selling sushi for the first time outside of his country. You would never know it by walking in. They all speak very good English, and the business is thriving.

No matter where you go, there is always something in the city of the unknown.