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intro I M I S S T H E C I T Y.

I miss that blast of warm air hitting your face when you come down the subway stairs. I miss how two bucks can take you anywhere you need to go, and the people-watching is included in your fare. I miss hoops on blacktop. Two full courts running and two more squads talking shit on the sidelines, waiting to get next. I miss some kid in the liquor store parking lot trying to sell you his mixtape from out the trunk of a busted old Buick, telling you straight-faced he’s the next big thing in hip-hop. I miss doormen in funny hats and gleaming towers reaching to the sky. I miss being anonymous. Walking down the block and not bumping into someone you know at every turn. I miss walking places. I miss the feel of good pavement, and schoolyards, and skateparks across town. I miss urban blight. A new band on the marquee every night. I miss rich girls with low self-esteem and an empty penthouse for the weekend. I miss making out in elevators. I miss going out at any hour of the night and getting a slice of the best pizza on earth. Or a carnitas burrito. Or Korean barbeque. Or a big bowl of pho. Or whatever the fuck you feel like at that moment because the world’s kitchen is right here. I miss street performers and art in public places. I miss neighborhoods with history and buildings that didn’t pop up yesterday. I miss how the city air pulses when our team is in the postseason. I miss competition. The whole world hustling and trying to come up. Radical ideas and people making new shit. Weakness exposed and dreams crushed. I miss a town where an aloha shirt won’t get you in the door. Where folks aren’t satisfied. Where complacency stinks untouchable like the kiss of death. It’s time to go back to the city. Hurry up if you’re coming too. We’re not on island time here. – Bali Belly


Bali Belly Issue 004