There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born there, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size, 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 the New York in quest of something. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness, natives give it solidity and continuity, but the settlers give it passion.
Friday, June 20, 2008
I saw this the other day over at Joe.My.God. Joe noticed the following E.B. White quote on the subway - part of the MTA's "Poetry In Motion" program.
I am one of those passionate settlers...