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  • I turned 18 on October 29th, 2012 at home in the East Village.
    As I reached adulthood, Hurricane Sandy reached New York City.

    Around 4 I went outside to go to pick up sushi at the Sunrise Market on 9th st. As I passed under the scaffolding of an NYU arts building, the wind picked up, and the solid iron structure began to move. It didn't begin slowly, with a quiver, or a metallic skreetch. There was no warning. It just bent towards the street, heaving from side to side.

    I sprinted home, dodging trash and branches; Flying evidence of the malleability of my city.

    New York is the capital of the world. A grandiose melting pot that ethnically, socially, and physically intimidates. We wear all black, and march down the sidewalk with purpose, each individual proudly saying, " I <3 New York." We love that the Concrete Jungle has molded us.

    At home my sister and mother lit every candle we had. I carried some in a pie tin to the bathroom. . Sounds of the storm softened with the running water, and I relaxed. Candlelit bathing soothed, though the water eventually grew cold. But then the candles burned out and there was nothing to recognize. Out of habit I reached for the light switch, but I couldn't even see my hands. It didn't feel like my home.

    We left the next morning and returned a week later. My neighborhood was flooded. I walked east towards Alphabet City. Its true, cars were floating down the street.
    My mother had left my birthday cake in the fridge.
    It was rotten.
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