Coming out of the subway yesterday afternoon at the intersection of Broadway and Madison Square Park was like stepping into a Stieglitz photograph: the imposing prow of the Flatiron Building seemed ready to sail up Fifth Avenue, yet it was delicately ethereal, too, seen through a sudden wet gauze of new snow. The precipitation was unexpected, which made it all the more magical. Who’d have anticipated that another blizzard was hot on the heels and by morning I’d rise to find the city practically paralyzed yet again.
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