No todo el mundo adora NY

Mi gran amigo JR me manda un mail con referencias a Henry Miller. Nacido en el Manhattan de principios del siglo XX, Miller emigró a París para vivir malamente en la Francia bohemia donde artistas de todo tipo se un'ian en su af'an por cambiar un mundo que, como no hab'ia otra posibilidad, los cambio a ellos.

Leyendo sus palabras puedo entender exactamente a que se refiere, es una epoca distinta, una ciudad diferente, pero mucho todavia persiste. Los que ya la conoceis decidme, que os parecen sus palabras?

Estos son algunos de los comentarios que Miller hace sobre La Ciudad:

When I think of New York I have a very different feeling. New York makes even a rich man feel his unimportance. New York is cold, glittering, malign. The buildings dominate. There is a sort of atomic frenzy to the activity going on; the more furious the pace, the more diminished the spirit. A constant ferment, but it might just s well be going on a test tube. Nobody knows what it´s all about. Nobody directs the energy. Stupendous. Bizarre. Baffling. A tremendous reactive urge, but absolutely uncoordinated.

When I think of this city where I was born and raised, this Manhattan that Whitman sang of, a blind, white rage licks muy guts. New York! The white prisons, the sidewalks swarming with maggots, the breadlines, the opium joints that are built like palaces, the kikes that are there, the lepers, the thugs, and above all, the ennui, the monotony of faces, streets, legs, houses, skycrapers, meals, posters, jobs, crimes, loves.... A whole city erected over a hollow pit of nothingness. Meaningless. Absolutely meaningless. And Forty-second street! The top of the World, they call it. Where's the bottom then? You can walk along with your hands out and they'll put cinders in your cap. Rich or poor, they walk along with head thrown back and they almost break their necks looking up at their beautiful white prisons. They walk along like blind geese and the searchlights spray their empty faces with flecks of ectasy.