Riding an escalator in New York feels like floating through the veins of the city — metal steps humming beneath your feet, neon lights flickering above, and the rush of strangers woven into the rhythm of ascent. Each floor opens like a verse in a poem, carrying you upward through the endless pulse of movement, where even stillness feels alive.
Riding an escalator in New York feels like floating through the veins of the city — metal steps humming beneath your feet, neon lights flickering above, and the rush of strangers woven into the rhythm of ascent. Each floor opens like a verse in a poem, carrying you upward through the endless pulse of movement, where even stillness feels alive.
