New York City in a snow storm. Today, I found this picture on my hard drive--I had taken it last February from the window of my hotel room. I'm a California man, and I remember being struck by how dreamlike and virginal the city looked. The falling snow muffled sound, but the new snow touching old as it landed made this really beautiful whisper. It reminded me of this passage from my favorite (great American) novel: "Over the great bridge, with the sunlight through the girders making a constant flicker upon the moving cars, with the city rising up across the river in white heaps and sugar lumps all built with a wish out of non-olfactory money. The city seen from the Queensboro Bridge is always the city seen for the first time, in its first wild promise of all the mystery and the beauty in the world."
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