n De Arte - New York .03.07




We landed a few days before the start of spring in a raging blizzard. New York was covered in white, which soon turned to a dirty brown. The snow banked up on either side of the streets and the pavements, and, depending on the temperature and time of day, alternated between rivulets of dirty water or freezing slabs of ice upon which it was almost impossible to walk. But it was not just the weather that overwhelmed me. The city assaulted me.


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