This city is built of man, paved in the histories of the men who built its systems - from its dirt roads to its sewers, each cobblestone an unmarked grave. Men who lay cables, concrete, foundations. Men who sold pants and sandwiches to the men who lay the skeleton of the city; men who built storefronts for pants and sandwich shops, but eyed something higher. What is a city if not the strata of these stories stacked in layers, brick by cellular brick to build pyramids, then empires – corporate skyscrapers of Babel that shine like the Golden Calf when they catch the sun.
© 2021 Jewish Young Professional
Written for The Sunday Muse