It is impossible to live in New York City without lusting after careers you’ll never have, women you’ll never date — not unattainable fantasy jobs and girlfriends, but paths you might’ve taken were there only time to take them all. If only a man could live ten lives, you think to yourself, standing in autumn on an outdoor Brooklyn subway platform, the air just brisk enough to invigorate the lungs, the night a bundle of potential energy as yet unspent.
--From a longer post at TAS, where a collective reading of John Dos Passos's U.S.A. has just begun.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment