Within a millisecond of crossing the river, you knew that things happened here, big things, one time. This city was built for speed. The skeletons of industry now littered the often empty streets.Wrought iron, tiffany stained glass, monumental monuments, the kind of bricks that make you know someone meant business. Someone built this city like they were not at all looking for a deal. The buildings had first names. Some had last too. They don’t make them like that anymore.
But the river was black now. The streets were so quiet at night. The first night I lived here, for the second time in my life, it sounded like I was the only one. Everyone asked me why I moved to Troy….Olde Albany’s dirt smeared step child.
Everyone said dont cross that river.
But we did.
And just like the collars, we shined her back to a loud life. And every day we made an effort to shine some more. We boasted her stories and shared her tales of those Golden years, while we lived ours.
We were never going back to Albany. Never, never, never.
Those days, we saw so much American Troyalty. Our eyes were bursting at the seams with the brass and beauty of it all. We were reeling in our years, and wanted to reel them in here. Me-I always loved a good juxtaposition, and this was one of the best I’d ever seen. The old and the new. The ancient library, rich with marble and million dollar glass, sitting next to the bodega that smelled like sour milk and murder. It was everything I could want and need in one place. Everything was coming up roses. Everything was grand. It was a good time to be in Troy. And so, we made sure to have one. In this big world, in this small city.