this island.

It was just a snapshot, just one in a million and we've seen it all before. All those buildings, that collection of brick and glass and engineering, one-point-six million people and everyone has a dream, we know the story. But you know it doesn't need the digital enhancement, you know the caption superfluous. That every brick alone could carry you across the oceans. That the soft way the wind smells in April could make you burn your things and run into its arms. That you never could commit to anything, fight for anything, love anything, like you could that web of streets and buildings and dreams.

I saw a picture of New York today.

My every argument
fell apart.