When I was a kid, I made a list of places I should live. Places one could make great works of art full of nobility, meaning, and permanence. It only occurs to me now, years after my departure, that the city of my childhood was never on that list. That place was only ever a launch pad, the beginning. Those who know me, regard my comments about Philly as a certain disdain. Not so, I'd argue, my career is a path, Philly is where it began.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The center of Broad Street at the intersection of Walnut. Three blocks from the college I attended, one block from my old apartment, fifteen years in the past, congested and wet. There was a romance to the city at one time. It's horn-song and vocal polyphony swooning the young pie-eyed artist with the lure and con of history as culture. A temporary condition, horrible, but necessary and I would soon feel compelled to leave the confining city streets in favour of more verdant destinations. Photos of which are forthcoming... THANKFULLY!
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