Travel Log

During my short time being a regular commuter of the great city known as Manhattan or NYC I have tried to make myself familiar with the plentiful sites that it has to offer. For example, the beauty of central park, the classiness and sophistication of the financial district, and the architectural wonders that include but aren’t limited to the empire state, Chrysler, and the Morgan guaranty trust building. However, despite all these aspects that make up the city, nothing compares to the simplicity of the city’s sidewalks. So much goes on outside on these sidewalks that it’s almost impossible to miss. One thing I noticed during my routine walk was on west 34th street, between Fashion Avenue and Broadway, before arriving to the NQR subway station. It is in this area where my routine walk leads me to the site of an old gentleman and his loyal canine companion.
The old gentleman has on torn cloths that appear to not have been anywhere near a Laundromat or cleaners in months. His shoes are brown, almost black and show signs of over use. They have scrape marks on the sides and few holes. His face is old and seems tired and beat down due to personal struggles and the cruelty that is fate. He appears to have given up hope. Behind his eyes lie sadness and regret. His facial hair has spread and is untamed. He sits down against the wall of a store, legs crossed, and arms wrapped around his only friend, providing both with a little bit of warmth. The dog is small, white and brown. Its fur is nappy, unkempt, and not groomed. His sign is made up of a ripped cardboard box cover and is written with a black permanent marker, but the color seems to be fading and every passing day turning grayer and grayer, and duller and duller. It simply says “please help us…God bless…”. A simple request that could pierce once heart and reach into the very foundation that is the soul and love for our fellowman. However, no one ever stops to help. He receives not even the slightest bit of attention. Almost as if he is inexistent in their perceived reality and his presence and need are irrelevant. He sits there, patiently waiting for the kindness, understanding, and generosity that untimely will fail to come.
The readings so far only paint an image of the city to that of an art filled utopia where culture and inspiration collide. For example, “From The Death And Life Of Great American Cities”, Jane Jacobs compares the city sidewalk to a ballet, which is never the same anywhere you go. By comparing it to a ballet, she glorifies its image into something better than it really is. The harshness of reality makes it clear that the city is not only high-class, beauty, and inspiration, but also low class, struggles, and ignorance. It is filled with people who ignore those in need and have long forgotten where they came from and what they had to do to get to the top. It is filled with cruel indifference that is seen through the eyes, face, and action of its population.