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new york, new york

i learned to walk in new york. i spoke my very first word in new york. i spent my first birthday in new york. all in the mariot marquee hotel, in times square. i used to have a “new york accent” and i had to go to speech class because “i couldn’t say my ‘r’s’’ correctly. by the time i was thirteen, i’d been to new york at least fifteen times. my daddy used to bring me with him when he went there for business, and i’d sit in the hotel or the conference room for six hours at a time, drawing, reading. i got lonely, but when my daddy would come back, he’d take me out and we’d go to central park, the zoo, see a movie. or just walk around. i was daddy’s little girl. i was his everything. but then, when i got into high school, it all ended. school got too important to miss. even for my sweet sixteen, we went to the city. but it wasn’t the same. i had grown up, and daddy’s little girl went from climbing rocks in central park to climbing her way through high school, trying to get to the top which is college.

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