New York after Paris

The truth is that New York is in the throes of creation. With infinite travail it is taking on a body adequate to its needs, — a feat Paris long ago accomplished. The operation necessarily involves disagreeable surprises, and the immediate result, viewed in its entirety, is, it must be confessed, much more grotesque than impressive. An orchestral performance in which each and every performer played a different tune could hardly be less prepossessing.

~ Alvan F. Sanborn from, https://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/1906/10/new-york-after-paris/306234/

Items from The Atlantic are appearing more often here on the ‘ol blog. My reading goes through epochs as I discover things that interest me and begin following them via RSS.

However, I landed on this article after a few clicks from another place, and that’s odd. Generally, the things I read do not contain links to other interesting-to-me things. That sounds backwards, perhaps? You see, if I find a place that has something interesting, I follow it in some form or another. So usually, any interesting links I find, point to things I already have seen—or if they’re very fresh, I’m already about to stumble upon shortly. I’m not sure that itself is interesting to report, but there it is.

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Tribeca

This photo is both the calm after, and the calm before, the storm. I was recently in New York City for a long weekend. (Contrary to what you may have heard, it was not the End Times as far as I saw. Things were more expensive, yes. But otherwise it was the NYC I recall from my last visit.) This photo is from late at night, shortly after some thunderstorms had passed over. And it was the night before I did a bunch of volunteering to help with an event on a rooftop on the lower east side.

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Interesting

Found this in the camera roll from last weekend – I rounded the corner to this park and had a major case of deja vu… until I realized a very important scene from #personofinterest was apparently shot here… anyone else agree? Finch in the wheel-chair, with the car bomb . . .

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