James, the New York Times is an addiction. I, like many other Brooklyn Proletarians, grew up believing we could become sophisticated and elite people if we read the Times religiously. My Mother solemnly intoned that Reading the times was the equivalent of a college education. We believed in the times the way poeple from the East End of London thought that speaking Posh English would make them gentlemen.
The demoralizing article gave us a portrait of Paris that seems common to almost every major metropolis in our world today. Gentrification, skyrocketing rents, metastasizing chain stores, and of course the pandemic are robbing the Urban west of the verve, vibrancy and highly charged valence (yes, I do overdue alliteration, but I fucking love it) that once made our cities sparkle like champagne. Tell me: Does it cost a fortune to live in a habitable abode, one with hot water and no rats. Does it swing, or is it becoming a banquet of bougeois banalities instead of "A movable feast."
James, the New York Times is an addiction. I, like many other Brooklyn Proletarians, grew up believing we could become sophisticated and elite people if we read the Times religiously. My Mother solemnly intoned that Reading the times was the equivalent of a college education. We believed in the times the way poeple from the East End of London thought that speaking Posh English would make them gentlemen.
I would like you to address an issue, regarding your beloved Paris, that was addressed in a recent issue of the New York times, https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/22/world/europe/latin-quarter-paris-bookstores.html?searchResultPosition=4
The demoralizing article gave us a portrait of Paris that seems common to almost every major metropolis in our world today. Gentrification, skyrocketing rents, metastasizing chain stores, and of course the pandemic are robbing the Urban west of the verve, vibrancy and highly charged valence (yes, I do overdue alliteration, but I fucking love it) that once made our cities sparkle like champagne. Tell me: Does it cost a fortune to live in a habitable abode, one with hot water and no rats. Does it swing, or is it becoming a banquet of bougeois banalities instead of "A movable feast."