Two days alone in New York. A weekend stay after a long project in one of Michael’s favorite cities—a rarity of time and space allowed somewhere between the family vacation and Raygun Studio work-flow. Michael’s Polaroids and the words of Poet, Anna Hempstead:
When with her clouds the early dawn illumes
Our doubtful streets, wistful they grow and mild
As if a sleeping soul grew happy and smiled,
The whole dark city radiantly blooms.
Pale spires lift their hands above the glooms
Like a resurrection, delicately wild,
And flushed with slumber like a little child,
Under a mist, shines forth the innocent Tombs. Thus have I seen it from a casement high.
As unsubstantial as a dream it grows.
Is this Manhattan, virginal and shy,
That in a cloud so rapturously glows?
Ethereal, frail, and like an opening rose, I see my city with an enlightened eye.
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