Marco Roth at The Feckless Bellelettrist:
I had been on my way out for a smoke, and had stopped to hold the heavy bronzed steel and glass door for a woman whose long gray ponytail and colorful mismatched knitwear looked pleasingly hippie-ish.
Our third was a construction engineer from the ongoing renovations next to the entrance: reflective safety vest, button down plaid shirt, muddy work boots. The woman popped open a large purple umbrella, looked at me, and patted it. She was offering to share.
I explained that I was just there to smoke and return to the library. We wished each other good afternoon. Next, she invited the foreman. He was only on his way to get a coffee and check on his crew, he said, but he accepted, put away the phone, then said something that made her laugh. They linked arms and set off up over the slick mossy brick path like lovers.
I tried remembering the last time I’d seen such a spontaneous act of random generosity—also accompanied by playful good humor—between two people from such different walks of life, strangers to each other. This kind of solidarity—even against the relatively mild elements—would be unimaginable now in my former city, at, say, the crowded side entrance to the New York Public Library on 42nd street, or at a Brooklyn subway station.
Cities have energies and those energies can change, curdle, or waste away.
More here.
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