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JFK. Hustle and bustle, as expected. After waiting in line for first time visitors to be granted entry, the breeze in Queens hit my face ever so gently and i recall the air feeling different to that of Manchester, United Kingdom. I was about to spend a summer in a much less glamorous state than New York, in Connecticut, as a special needs counsellor, however the big apple has a habit of entrapment so that when you see the bright lights only ever previously seen on you television screen, you, at first, get a headache but then soon after realize you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I had no expectations for the United States of America and no prior knowledge of it other than that a Megabus couldn't take me from one side to the other in a day. And even this knowledge was gained from friends who rubbished my claims of travelling to the west coast after my work at camp. Andover, Connecticut, where i spent June to August working as a Special needs counsellor provided me with a weather that i couldn't have predicted: The capricious climate boasted heatwaves which kept people indoors, as well as raging storms, which, you guessed it, kept us indoors too. But more of a basement kind of indoors. What surprised me most about America, or CT at least was the amount of greenery. You need a vehicle to get around in most states due to the sheer size of the USA, and in the passengers side i grew fond of the towering presence beyond the side of the roads and the beauty of the natural land cut through with concrete was a strangely beautiful sight and one i remember most. Post camp travel was cut short due to a lost wallet. New York was a different beast however. I do think that the city slept, or at least the part that didn't was central Manhattan, with the lights raging and illuminating eyes for as long as they liked with an energy unlike anything seen on this planet. The city was, in my opinion at it's most beautiful in the day. There was a glow from the sun which radiated, and walking upon the high-line at about 5pm with a light sweat and cool air was as beautiful as it was depressing. Depressing in the sense that i knew i wouldn't get the sun and the wind working so harmoniously in England. Enjoy it while it lasts, i thought, and so i did. Earlier that day, i parted with a dollar for a can of Brisk before walking across the Brooklyn Bridge with a friend from New Jersey. I noticed the way the water shimmered under the sunlight and wondered whether the Statue of Liberty was worth taking the ferry to get close to. She looked nice in the distance but i sadly never made the time. Fast forward back to the high line, i distinctly remember watching the sun set slowly, and the day bled out into night at a slow enough pace to notice the change and appreciate it. It was almost as if the city was putting on a real show for us, as if to apologize for the artificiality of 42nd street. But i didn't mind. I could accept the duality of the place and i appreciated both of the jarring aspects which made it so great. Light blue first starts to mix with a bit of white, red and orange, until there's a slight bit more strength in the last two colours. As time goes on, the orange becomes sole red and the blue stays but gets darker. Ever so slightly. The white of the clouds starts to disappear and then red becomes a prominent feature in the skyline...Until, it starts to drift to the backdrop, slowly but surely, and then just before it disappears completely, all the colours seem to linger just behind all the buildings, as if they're attached to the horizon and don't want to say goodnight. But sooner or later they must go. Which is a shame because i didn't want to say goodnight either.