October 6, 2009. What a burden these weary caryatid bear here in the East Village. Their glory has faded, not only from the ravages of time, but from the neglect of man. They are now caged, hemmed in securely by railings, their curves in stark contrast to the straight lines of the door and structure, their griminess mirrored in the graffiti on the window. Did they offer shelter and promise when they first graced this building? I can imagine that they were welcome markers to children making their way back home. I would always know which door was mine.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Weary
October 6, 2009. What a burden these weary caryatid bear here in the East Village. Their glory has faded, not only from the ravages of time, but from the neglect of man. They are now caged, hemmed in securely by railings, their curves in stark contrast to the straight lines of the door and structure, their griminess mirrored in the graffiti on the window. Did they offer shelter and promise when they first graced this building? I can imagine that they were welcome markers to children making their way back home. I would always know which door was mine.
