baby i'm from New York

[Manhattan]

 
What lies beyond our mountains and shores?
 
That was an easy answer to her question. The world was there. There was always more world. Wherever you chose to be, there would always be more outside of home than there was of home. It was quite certain that Manhattan had probably circumnavigated his way around his world, simply in an effort to try and get as far away from the concept of home as possible. Having come back here, to this place, it just meant that he had not really stopped to enjoy his scenery.
 
He was hollow.
 
“I was born, I ran, and then I died. There is not much to tell, except that the one time I counted myself happy, I went and fucked it all up. I had a child. Only I didn’t stick around.”
 
Manhattan shifted his weight and waffled an exhale of hot air that rolled over Oakheart’s shaggy back. Now that winter had set in, both of them sported a coat of thick, scraggly fur. It was nothing luxurious in the least, but every bit as functional and practical as the pair as they walked slowly through the confines of the meadow to an unknown direction. There were not many here on this cold day. Just the few who had meetings have, women to chase, or children to herd.
 
The man touched by magic lifted his head and surveyed what was left of these lands before bringing his eyes to steady against his daughter.
 
“What of you? Have you never deigned to explore the lands beyond of your birth? To take your family and run from here?”
 
 

MANHATTAN

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