…and back with the usual effect: I can’t talk. That city hits me like an astreroid shower. Pretty much all I can do today is grunt and point and note how deafening the silence is here in Ohio.

So, till I get my powers back, here’s one of the photos my Paul took: it’s Digger’s city cousin, knocking down the old to put up the new along the High Line.

Hard at work on a Saturday afternoon in the city that never rests, let alone sleeps. While we walked along here, a woman sitting on a bench with a sign “Pause for Poetry” rose up, did a dance, and blessed us with her lyrics. My daughters who live here told me they’d have run for their lives, but pausing felt novel and just right.