The unique metropolis I first visited when I was just two years old. Fragmented memories still resurface—brief scenes and impressions that left their mark, including the transatlantic 747 flight that brought us there.

Decades have flown by—quite literally—and lo and behold: that same Dutch boy grew up to become a 747 pilot, with JFK now one of his regular destinations.

People often ask me what I’m “going to do” in New York next week.
Honestly? Not much.
I’ve done nearly all the touristy things over the years—helicopter rides, boat tours around Manhattan, the major museums (more than once), and occasionally meeting friends when our layovers aligned.
These days, I simply enjoy reading a book or two on “my” bench in Central Park—which, for some reason, always seems magically unoccupied when I’m there (I might just claim it one day).

Dinner with colleagues in one of the city’s endless restaurants, or letting my legs carry me for hours, camera in hand, chasing light and stillness in a place that rarely offers either.

You don’t have to go far or work hard to capture the essence of this city—towering buildings in art deco or modernist styles, bathed in the moody rays of slanting sunlight, tell their own stories.

The city that inspired Edward Hopper to create some of his most iconic works, including Nighthawks—a painting that has quietly moved me ever since I first saw it.

And now that I’m thinking about it, maybe I will finally track down and photograph the real-life locations that inspired that masterpiece.

The Flying Dutchman, back in New Amsterdam.
Happy days.