In which The Gay Recluse becomes increasingly obsessed with the George Washington Bridge.

Sometimes we think about what Manhattan looked like 500 years ago.

When it was covered with trees and rivers and lakes.

In some ways it was probably a lot more beautiful, or at least unspoiled. It was hard to get a taxi then!

A part of us would like to see that now.

But a part of us would miss the bridge, which is the perfect complement to this natural beauty, even that which exists in our imagination.