Friday Tunnels Through the Past

This morning everything appeared frozen against the perfect blue sky. (Also it was very cold out!)
It's a time of the year when the tree branches resemble gnarled fingers reaching for the warmth of the sun, belied by the still frigid temps. I wanted to avoid the 'furniture' sign in this shot, but failed to do so; such are the small disappointments in life.
I was more successful in the attempt to capture the long shadow of the fire hydrant.
Turning the corner, I was greeted by a group of revelers, laughing and running crazily in circles, as they are so prone to do when the wind picks up in Washington Heights.
A nearby building stood serenely by, framed magnificently by the azure sky.
In the subway, I was intrigued by the sewer grate; I thought about the massive tunnels currently being constructed deep under Manhattan, which are the largest construction projects in the history of the city. It seems strange that we as a culture are capable of building such huge and complex structures even as the smaller ones seem to constantly crumble around us, often to our detriment.
In midtown I enjoyed the sight of the sun reflecting off another 'grande dame' and remembered having attended a 'happy hour' on the rooftop last summer; sadly it's not a place I can recommend, unless you like to envision yourself as fitting in perfectly with a certain clientele of Midtown Manhattan bars that could probably be featured (were they just a bit younger and slightly more 'beautiful') on an MTV reality series called 'The City.' I thought about how this part of midtown has been described by one of my colleagues as a 'cultural wasteland.' 
Still, as I walked along 35th Street, I could not help but admire the 'invisible hand' of Adam Smith at work. At lunch I went down to Union Square to meet my friend Annie. In the subway station, I passed through the tunnel of 9/11 stickers, one for each of the victims.I can't imagine a better way to commemorate the essentially fleeting nature of all life while paying tribute to the senseless waste that day will always represent.  

Which is not to say that it's without serious imperfections, at least as it has evolved in the years since it was installed.
I found something particularly moving about seeing this in such a functional space, where people are traveling from one place to another (another metaphor for 'life,' obv).
Without the superimposed formality of a museum or more traditional memorial, I find that no matter how often I see it, I'm caught off guard, and forced to seriously think about what happened and why, and feel true sorrow for those people whose names are listed on this infinite line of slowly disintegrating mailing labels. 
Above ground, Union Square bustled with the green market, which made me a 'lil jealz' because there is nothing like it where I live in Washington Heights. (We had one a few summers ago, but they didn't come back; as everyone knows, 'the poors' eat a lot of sugary, processed crap and don't deserve the kind of expensive organic produce available at these markets.)
I saw a few bikes, which made me think of the hundreds and possibly even thousands I saw last winter in Munich; I regretted that New York is not a very 'bike-friendly' city.
Sometimes this city -- at least in Manhattan -- just seems too big for something like bikes. (Or one some level, even ppl.)
Back in my office, time passed.
I was reminded that here under the sky, at least for these few seconds, we are all the same.