The toothy grin, the round, orange body… Who else could it be but "Monsieur Chat," my favorite work of graffiti art? He's all over Paris, but in New York, he's much more elusive. I catch a glimpse not only of Monsieur Chat but also of a very different New York from the High Line, an elevated path of flowers and plants running through West Chelsea.
The Empire State Building framed by bright green leaves, an up-close view of fifth floor fire escapes, an over-the-top look at a massive parking garage. Standing on a grate, I gaze at the vertiginous drop to street level and then hurry along to the wooden paths that make me forget about altitude. And we are a happy group of friends, meeting at this in-the-sky spot to appreciate a fleeting moment that will in our minds last forever.
(Coming next week: The final part in my series of New York musings)