It’s 19 years, 34 weeks, 1 day, and 59 minutes later, heretofore known as now. Young Ned has become The Pie-Maker. And this is where he makes his pies. The peaches never brown, the dead fruit in his hands becomes ripe with everlasting flavor. As long as he only touches it once.
Pie maker of my heart.
“Any city gets what it admires, will pay for, and, ultimately, deserves. Even when we had Penn Station, we couldn’t afford to keep it clean. We want and deserve tin-can architecture in a tinhorn culture. And we will probably be judged not by the monuments we build but by those we have destroyed.”
NYT: Farewell to Penn Station, 1963
wow this is incredibly depressing