For some, certain places hold a rather mythic oeuvre in our veins; they are seen as places of magic.
Maybe a cyclist couple have spent most of their money on traveling the world for their blog, their last stop is New York City so that they may get pictures of themselves at places like The Brooklyn Bridge, Lady Liberty & that megalithic skyline reaching the clouds. Or maybe a foodie from Wisconsin just wants to try Famous Ben's Pizza on the West Side because its New York ******' New York pizza.
Maybe a doe-eyed screenwriter skips his flat square suburban town to sell his words and soul to the sprawling sunny L.A where dreams are made in pixels.
Maybe some New Age beaded wrist to ankle lady spent her life savings to jump over the ocean to visit the ancient pyramids built for a purpose yet fully known.
Maybe a bearded dude visits Easter Island to try and understand the complexities of his ancestors while soaking in the rich vastness of nature around.
Maybe I used to see places this way. Probably...
But in these places people live! It's not mythology to them.
Maybe every night a homeless man prays & begs for food on the late night A-train in NYC.
Maybe a middle-aged fading blonde couple spend their time in L.A at a health food store to recoup the savings they lost joining a cult way back when.
Maybe a Swedish teen traverses the trash and littered-burned streets of Giza everyday on her way to work hoping funny looks aren't shot her way for the way she dresses or shouted at by bearded Salafi men.
Maybe a rare species of bug is unknowingly stepped on in Easter Island.
Today, i see magic in getting lost on the NYC subway. I found magic mythology on the beaches of Dahab, 80 miles away from Cairo. I see magic in the mythologies, while others live it, the daily grind.