tavie.com

They're gutting the streets by Trinity church. Where there used to be asphalt and cars lined up there is now a street-wide trench, about five feet deep, exposing bundles of white pipes. Up and down the sidewalks are trucks balancing heavy cement markers, trucks full of equipment, wooden barricades, and men in Con Ed hats. Some of them carry drills that make extremely loud noises. Behind all of this is this sweet little church, brown and sleepy with its bright green graveyard. And worming our ways up what's left of the sidewalks, towards Wall Street's marble capitalist glory, are we, the commuters. We are cold. We are slow because we can no longer walk up the middle of the low-traffic street-that-was. We are late for work. But so is everyone else.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:41 AM | shower me with attention