“The New York streets from a taxi. That misty gap at the end of the Avenue. Beyond the bright windows, loaded with color and light—beyond the green and yellow lights—the misty rift in the stone—those buildings beyond the Arch—gray on the gray-pale sky—beyond Madison Square—the sun on the biscuit-box buildings and the clock tower—beyond the cigar stores of the Avenue and the red lights of the Flatiron corner drugstore, the trolleys and the trucks on Twenty-third Street—that stop my taxi—girls in nude summer stockings—those personalytiless international eating places—we’re nearer the Arch—Fourteenth Street—a slab of sun—turns down Twelvth Street toward the El—Jefferson Market Court.”