As I wait for news (job related) affecting the family situation and the geography of my life, I muse, happily, over images and dialogue inspired by Manhattan. City of my little girl, adolescent girl, young adult, and very grown up woman’s dreams. I’m not deep in this way, I’m just gushy.
Narrator, The Naked City (1948): “”There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.”
Mark Twain: “In Boston they ask, how much does he know? In New York, how much is he worth? In Philadelphia, who were his parents?”
[Now as I soon expect to have lived in each of these cities, I believe I understand at a profound level what Twain was on about here.]
Isaac Davis, Manhattan (1979): “I feel like we’re in a Noel Coward play. Someone should be making martinis.”