The early sun streams in through the windows that frame the morning sky.  The Girl stretches her arms and looks toward the light, ignoring the twenty-floor structure that suddenly blocks her view.  From the moment her building was born, the landscape out the Girl's windows from high up so many stories was magical, flowing down the avenue past Union Square all the way to the Village and beyond.  The Girl was born decades later but the view was waiting for her the day she moved in and it thrilled her every time she peered out at this city of heroes and sinners and everyone in between.

But nothing is forever, especially in New York, and now the new building so close she could feel its breath was finished construction and waiting to be occupied.  Waiting to be filled with more people stacked one over the other, each with their own schedule and their own story in the midst of her view downtown.  Ah well, she thought, watching the cars below in the post-dawn rush, she could still see the clock tower if she stood in just the right spot.

When the Girl moved into the City she was just beginning the rest of her life and she quickly discovered that the breathless energy she began each day with was returned ten-fold by a city even more breathless.  Deciding which direction to take her life came with every corner she turned and she reported her adventures with words and pictures.  She assured her mother that there were no worries; she lived in a big building with lots of neighbors and diligent doormen who looked out for danger.

Her mother knew what danger was but what makes a doorman diligent, she asked.  The Girl responded with tales of young tenants returning from nights of celebration too overcelebrated to find their door key, the elevator, even the building.  These diligent doormen guided them upstairs, walking them inside, sometimes even holding their head as they prayed to the porcelain god of celebration.  The mother was strangely not assured.

On this day the Girl dresses and grabs an organic peach from the counter as she bolts down the stairs.  The elevators will be crowded and running slow and it's only a thousand steps.  Twelve hundred tops.  Tonight is grad school after a day of teaching and as her foot hits the next step she goes over the things in her backpack she knows she will need.  Elsewhere in the City her young students awake to parents who help them dress and prepare for their day in Miss Girl's classroom.  They remind their parents excitedly that today is slipper day, they must remember their fuzzy slippers.  As she exits the building into the rush of light and traffic the Girl reaches behind her to squeeze the backpack.  Yes, there they are, her Hello Kitty scuffs.  The day begins.


Urban Landscape as seen by the Girl


clock tower from under the flatiron bldg scaffold



alfresco seating



madison square park fountain



still life: toupee and hydrant



foggy foggy night