I was born in New York.

Six years later, I left New York to live in South Carolina.

I moved back 30 years later.

New York had my heart.

I’ve always had a complex relationship with New York City. When I was younger, I remember walking along dirty streets paved in old, discarded black gum and smelling both new and rotting fruit fermenting in the summer sun as I held my grandmother’s hand and stepped into the corner grocery store.

Back then, kids were still sent on errands to buy cigarettes. Unlike minors buying smokes, stepping on cracks was strictly forbidden—you would break your mother’s back. That was in 1988: the time of scrunched socks, Run DMC, and real New York-style pizza—the kind with an aroma that drifted down the block and told you it was owned by Vinny or his grandfather.

It was the town of true German street pretzels and spicy all-beef hotdogs with every topping imaginable.

It was the town of subways riddled with graffiti and flickering lights that went dark when we entered a tunnel. I have a vivid memory of hugging my grandmother tightly, burrowing my face into her bosom for safety every time the train went black. It was almost fun for me—like we were heading into an unknown horizon that only she and I shared. And I loved her for it.

But now, 30 years later, when I look at these images, I remember different things—because this is New York through the eyes of a 30-years-older me.

Yes, the streets are still paved in old gum. Yes, graffiti still lives on the trains. But something feels lost. It’s like renewing an old relationship and realizing the spark has changed. The corner stores have been replaced by Sephoras. The New York-style pizza is now owned by Rashid or Juan. And my grandmother is no longer alive.

This New York has become my old York—along with the charm.

And although every time I cross the bridge to re-enter my place of birth, my heart swells with longing, it also aches. I miss the dirty, broken New York City that birthed me. These photos are a reflection of myself as a tourist. Though there is excitement in my eyes, there’s also loss that cannot be discounted—despite the undeniable beauty of Chinatown and the grand architecture that once fostered my family for generations.