I’LL TAKE MANHATTAN
It is both the temple to our highest aspirations and the ash heap on which are piled our worst failings. It is a poem, an exclamation point, a crashing cacophony of countervailing ambitions. It is a grand, maddening riddle and a glittering confection.
It is New York, and there is no parallel or peer. You engage it on its own terms. You don’t question, surrender or explain. New York, thank all the poets and prophets, endures all, and resists your best attempts to define it.
Here follows a few random glimpses of the tension between the mighty machine and the people who populate it, from Summer 2015: