Bulgaria to Brooklyn, finding my way to Miami Ad School.

Twelve hour flight. Landed. Queues everywhere. Insane. Immigration authorities. Check. Finally through. Small miracle. A hundred dollars for a taxi. Priceless. Keys to my new apartment. In my country for the cost of rent here I could have a big house, pool, filled with exotic fish. But…here I am. NYC. The real-estate broker warned me that neighbors in the US just don’t socialize.

First walk to school. Anxious, like my first ever school day. Skyscrapers. Art stores. Fancy cafes. Happy faces. A creative smell in the air. Fresh breeze. It feels like dawn, clean, pure, waking up to a new beginning.

Eight floors. Arrived. Happy people everywhere. Insane.

Approaching school door. An artistic decorated corridor suggests magic. Flourishing. Colorful walls, paintings, weird gadgets. Invader’s of one’s inner world. Provokers of imagination. Fuel to feed creativity. Water. Horizons. The Brooklyn Bridge, the East River. Negative assumptions are diluted.

Welcome presentation. Meaningful slides imbue the audience with eagerness to create. Fulfill. Unconventional. Mesmerizing. One common denominator, we all have divorced the mundane to explore the exceptional. Spark seekers. Meaning creators. I am now an art director.

On my way back home. The mist lifts from my mind. My own prejudice was proved wrong. My neighbors even introduced themselves, happy.

First day. Miami Ad School.

Inside Miami Ad School New York                 1st Quarter student Martina Solakova             Art on the walk to school