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)
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