New York was no mere city. It was instead an infinitely romantic notion, the mysterious nexus of all love and money and power, the shining and perishable dream itself.

We always chase what keeps moving

There's something about cities that makes us project our longings onto them. We don't just move to New York for jobs or apartments—we move there because we've absorbed the mythology. It's the place where transformation supposedly happens, where nobody knows your old self, where ambition actually converts into something real. Didion wasn't wrong about the romance. What's useful now is recognizing that this hunger for a "magical somewhere else" doesn't actually require New York anymore. We do it with startups in San Francisco, with art scenes in Brooklyn, with whatever city we think holds the key to who we're trying to become.

The trickier part of what she's saying is the "perishable dream" bit. Cities aren't actually the nexus of power—they're just where we've decided to concentrate our belief in power. And that belief can shift. What's romantic today becomes overpriced and exhausting tomorrow. The real insight isn't about New York at all. It's that we're always placing our hopes into something external, some place or person or career that feels like the answer. The dream stays alive partly because it keeps moving. Once you catch it, once you actually arrive, it dissolves a little. That's not failure. That's just how the dream works.