There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and its turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter—the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last—the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York's high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements.
A poem compresses much in a small space and adds music, thus heightening its meaning. The city is like poetry: it compresses all life, all races and breeds, into a small island and adds music and the accompaniment of internal engines. The island of Manhattan is without any doubt the greatest human concentration on earth, the poem whose music is comprehensible to millions of permanent residents but whose full meaning will always remain elusive."
----Extracts from the indespensile "Here is New York" by E. B. White.
Welcome to the trembling city of one for whom New York is the end of his journey.
My enthusiasms are art, music, poetry, politics, food, and culture.
Welcome to my blog. Let’s enjoy the city.
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