It seemed always cold then, wake up come-alive weather, but on the bus a murmuring quiet all through bland Jersey to Weehawken where it rose up to the river road that curves down to the tunnel: there, the City Glorious, like a dream from childhood of a Galactic Imperium washed in winter air, light-cleansed, the Glass City breathing in the sunlight it also owned, and a power like a steel voice humming into your ear, ‘this is for you, this is where the […]
read more