Summer 2006 - unforgettable time. New York - unforgettable city. Here we love and laugh, dance on the street at the wake of dawn, breathe and be free. Here we lock eyes with excel worksheets, sweat in the metro and bargain on the pavements after spending a fortune on a meal or a dress. Here, I feel thrilled - like a real woman.

Summer summer. I keep calling its name, the calling of the wild, as if I can make it turn around. 3am on a Sunday nite. And when tomorrow comes, here we will be, scrambling to the metro to work, bulge our eyes in front of the tiny prints. As noon strikes, Hang Hon and Long U. will lobby me to sneak out for lunch, and Long will screech as I walk out of 1166 Avenue of the Americans, 10 minutes late but grinning so fashionably. We will hit our usual spot in Bryant Park, where salmon and scramble eggs perch my appetite. We will make jokes and laugh heartily as if nothing else exists. And just like that, we live it up in da game.

Last weekend we went to see Susanne Vega perform live in a tiny bar in East Village called Sidewalk (thanks to Caroline, my new friend introduced through Khang). Stretching my neck awkwardly through the crowd, I swung softly to the beats:

New York is a woman

And she'll make you cry

Because you're just
Another guy.

Here I felt small and anonymous, but somehow incredibly big.

I wonder, is this true, or is all just a lovely and awfully long dream?Won't I just wake up tomorrow dazed at the sunshine, puffy eyes and late for work? And even if the routine is all I get, if days after days I shall hurry down Steinway street to catch the steaming V while hunting restlessly for something quaint, I know with a convinction, or simply - with faith - that I shall regret nothing.