“Amory wondered why New York seemed a European city, why she had this persistent sensation of riding through a foreign city. Because death was a foreign city? “No,” she said, “that isn’t it. I must stop thinking about it,” she thought, and, as if she were a schoolmaster, called herself to order and questioned herself. “Why does New York seem foreign?” Sitting on the low bucket-seat next to Day driving in his fire-engine-red MG, she kept her red-eyed swollen face turned away from him and tried to... find the answer to her question at First Avenue, Second, Third, Lexington, as they drove up Fifty-ninth Street from the bridge. It was not that the early morning smells were reminiscent of London or Paris, the almost empty, somehow clean winter streets, the air as yet uncharged with the New York ozone generated by New York energy, but only that in Paris and in London and Venice and Rome she had often driven through the streets so early; in New York, she did not. When sightseeing, you often got off to an early start; in your home town, you didn’t.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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