grand central.
saturday 9:42 am.

A rainy Saturday morning in New York. A magnificent station building that, unlike Penn Station, only just escaped demolition. A whole microcosm of people who want to travel from all corners of the country to other corners of the country. Or perhaps just buy bread. Or shelter from the rain.

There is no better place to arrive in the city, because everything that makes New York what it is is concentrated here in the smallest of spaces. Hectic, densely crowded, an excess of goods and restaurants, and on top of that the wonderful Beaux-Arts elements that really only tourists still marvel at.