Wednesday, June 14, 2017

A pearl: the oyster's autobiography

When I first moved to NYC, I had responded to a craigslist post looking for 'promotional models', for a roofing/epoxy treatment company. It involved dressing up and wandering around city blocks flirting with the security and supers around freight entrances, trying to get the contact info of each building's Engineer.

Once, a very talkative Building Engineer told me and my accomplice about a repeated compromise of the seal around the basement of his midtown building - apparently the underground rivers of Manhattan are alive and well, constantly trying to reassert themselves through these ancient pathways, in an endless battle between nature and its colonizers.

I remembered that story while walking through the park today when we encountered a place where a few of the honeycomb sidewalk tiles had collapsed and pure clean water sprang up from it like an urban spring, like the water in the creek next to my house growing up in Florida - a place where veins of water filtered up through the aquifer, since we lived at or just below sea level.

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