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I’ve lived in New York for twenty-two years, and I still have the strange feeling that I’m in a fantasy. Not a fantasy—the city can be nasty and gritty—but a blurry intersection of the imaginary and the real. My old brick apartment building in Brooklyn, my old subway station, my favorite pasta bar, the view of lower Manhattan from my office window high in the clouds—these places and others like them appear so often in movies, art, advertising, and television that they seem eerie even as I move among them.
Sourse: newyorker.com
