Walking past the construction site in the morning, everything is hidden behind enormous plywood walls painted blue. But work is definitely in progress, because even the sidewalks vibrate with the uneven percussion of machines pounding away at the earth, and people walk by a little more quickly, uneasy at the sound.
At night the subway home stops on the bridge, with the peculiar silence that comes in a stopped train when the constant roar of the air conditioning stops and sudden silence engulfs the train where we hadn’t even noticed there was noise. But even in the newly yawning abyss of the absence of a din, there is a throb and rumble as other trains pass us going back into Manhattan, a restless bass ostinato that unsettles and makes us anxious for going.
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