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New York is like a hologram--take a picture anywhere and you'll see the whole in it. Times Square Saturday night, a lot like I remember it, thick with tour-orists as ever, except now I've joined their ranks, after three years in Seattle I've become a hayseed, impressed by crowds stepping out of subway cars, awed by the size of it all. At a fancy 22nd floor party with a view of where II used to be, reminders of the 11th abound, echo in the conversation. Many are out of work but not looking too hard, as if waiting for more than a job. Something's changed, people are on guard and talk of escape, are nervous of every low-flying plane. It's a city made suddenly aware of its own mortality, as Sarah puts it, but there's no point worrying too much about it, a new billionaire mayor in office and a stretch SUV limousine rounds the corner, nobody in it. |