Perhaps in the future, when a severe episode of depression seeps back in and I find myself overwhelmed and sickened by the prospect of getting out of bed, showering, or even just brushing my teeth, I will be able to picture my two images of fear.
I lost my wife Briggs after fighting her cancer together for fifteen months through four centers in Manhattan. I remember after we'd been to the second center for the first time, which we thought was paradise after the previous one, Briggs and I walked round to a favorite spot.
The same way you can't see the rooftops from the ground, it might not be easy to appreciate life fully if we're stuck seeing the world from one point of view. Start looking at things from a new angle and you're bound to feel appreciation and abundance. After all, we become what we perceive.
Maybe it's because the authors lived here, but dozens of classic books for kids are set in the center of New York. Crickets in their pages hang out, not in cornfields, but in Midtown. Mice don't run down country lanes: They sail boats in Central Park.
All I'm asking, New Yorkers, is that you either honestly document the city, including the trash bags that get buried for months under the snow when the blizzard hits, or quit clogging up my feed with propaganda.
When the Empire State Building was completed in 1931, it became the tallest skyscraper in the world. While it may no longer be the tallest, this massive but graceful Art Deco masterpiece remains unsurpassed as an icon of New York.
For most people around the world, Grand Central Terminal is not so much a train station as a metaphor for directionless mayhem, traffic run amuck, bodies barely dodging one another -- only a miracle can divert a head-on collision of either man or machine.