baby i'm from New York

[Manhattan]

Beautiful evening for a walk…
 
And so it was.
 
Manhattan had forgotten the sheer beauty that had come with winter time in the meadows around his homeland. He had always been so obsessed with avoiding his family and his lack of a magician’s touch that all he could ever see was what was over the next horizon.  But as he was forced to stop his tracks and actually take notice of what was around him, he remembered his own childhood, and then tried to remember what it would have been like for her. Would it have been the same, even a generation removed?
 
I’m Oakheart-
 
So, October had named the girl Oakheart. Strange, flattering name for the buttermilk beauty. He tried not to see that she bore a striking resemblance to his own mother, sleek and clean, strong. And yet, touched by magic, she was not. Instead, she was everything her father had tried to be—and yet somehow could not succeed. She was warm, and best of all, she was happy. The concept of being happy escaped Manhattan just as the concept of self-assurance did. Spending so much time running from who he was, that he was never content with what he wasn’t.
 
So he brought his head out of his thoughts and down to the present, trying ever so hard to contort his lips into a humanized smile--what was the point of trying to pretend to be something you weren’t… can horses even smile?-- before addressing his daughter, wondering if his next words would give him away.
 
“I’m Manhattan, and yes, it is a beautiful night for a walk. It has been many years since my eyes have seen these lands. Care to give an old man a tour?”
 
 

MANHATTAN

Baby, I'm from New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of;
there's nothing you can't do.