I did not pay much mind to scaffolding until I moved to New York . With thousands
upon thousands of buildings in this city and them all at some point needing a
new paint job or their windows cleaned or their bricks pointed or to be built
in the first place, scaffolding becomes part of the scenery.
Around November I start to take note of the city’s scaffolding inventory. In part because I’ll seek it out as a means of protection from
rain when walking on the sidewalk from point A to B (I have the scaffolding
mapped out on my work-to-subway route just in case I forget my umbrella).
Most
of the time, however, I only notice the scaffolding after it is gone. I’ll turn
a familiar corner and where there once was an unmemorable jumble of wood planking stands
a majestic pre-war or mirrored-glass building. It’s the city’s equivalent to
bandages being removed after a face-lift (did I mention I was from LA?). The
true cityscape revealed.
It is one of my
favorite things about this time of year.
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