Today I think I got a glimpse of the How-Is-It, when I read this post: Vanishing City.
Of course! The soul, the misfits, the community of the different ones in a perfect blend and connection, and also the lack of it, les enfants terribles and les enfants gâtés, the outrageous evictions, the greed, the worried filmmakers... and the unique resistance to lose the spirit of the city itself. All too pure, like frozen winter air, to breathe it in all at once, without hurting the lungs.
By simple logic, if a city is a city for the misfits to fit in, as the "Vanishing City" post say, then that it's not only a city, but an extended state of mind, that never sleeps. Sexy city.
It is another Creature of the Light to me.
City of orgies, walks and joys,
City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day make
Not the pageants of you, not your shifting tableaus, your
spectacles, repay me,
Not the interminable rows of your houses, nor the ships at the wharves,
Nor the processions in the streets, nor the bright windows with
goods in them,
Nor to converse with learn'd persons, or bear my share in the soiree
Not those, but as I pass O Manhattan, your frequent and swift flash
of eyes offering me love,
Offering response to my own—these repay me,
Lovers, continual lovers, only repay me.
Walt Whitman, "City of orgies" (from "Leaves of grass", Book V.)