walking the line towards a paradigm of symbiosis

there was the pedestrian who would let himself be jostled by the crowd, but there was also the who demanded elbow room and was unwilling to forgo nestled between the quietly bustling city streets below and the surrounding canyons of concrete, brick and glass above, entering the High Line from its Gansevoort Street entrance in Manhattan’s Meatpacking district feels familiar yet strange. Adapting to the position the elevated train tracks provide, a sense of calmness sets in. Nature has taken its path this year; the plants seem more lush, less manicured, old metal structures overgrown, and branches hanging from their sides