Once, I read an article in The New York Times describing the West Village as low-key with a small-scale charm, which is spot-on. Sprinkled on every corner are mom-and-pop coffee shops, and in Washington Square Park you’re guaranteed to find regulars playing chess. The streets are narrow, with curved corners full of undeniably charming architecture, making it a true village within a concrete jungle. Between the dogs, big and small, being walked along Bleecker and the crisp September air combating steam rising from the construction chimneys, it’s difficult to not romanticize my life while being
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