imagine having a
city full of things that no
other city had
That’s the way of the world, of course.
Possessions get discarded.
Life moves on.
But I often think what a shame it is that we didn’t keep the things that made us different and special and attractive in the fifties.
Imagine those palatial downtown movie theaters with their vast screens and Egyptian decor, but thrillingly enlivened with Dolby sound and slick computer graphics.
Now that would be magic.
Imagine having all of public life — offices, stores, restaurants, entertainments — conveniently clustered in the heart of the city and experiencing fresh air and daylight each time you moved from one to another.
Imagine having a cafeteria with atomic toilets, a celebrated tea room that gave away gifts to young customers, a clothing store with a grand staircase and a mezzanine, a Kiddie Corral where you could read comics to your heart’s content.
Imagine having a city full of things that no other city had.
From The life and times of the thunderbolt kid : a Memoir by Bill Bryson, New York, Broadway Books (2006).
To punch away once more at Mr. Bryson’s words, that’s the way of the world, of course.
Possessions get discarded.
Life moves on.
But I often think what a shame it is that we didn’t keep the things that made us different and special and attractive.
No Haiku For You 