The Arts in New York City
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"Site Observations"
Coney Island and the High Line are two locations where one can escape the busy urban life, yet still be in or near the city. In Delirious New York, Koolhaas describes Coney Island as a place once filled with “technology of the fantastic” with theme parks for entertainment and leisure (29). In “A Walk on the High Line,” Gopnik describes the High Line as a place “in which New York has returned to the wild with an almost Zen quality of measure, peaceful distance.” Likewise, in “Miracle above Manhattan,” Goldberger describes the High Line as “a rare New York situation in which a wonderful idea was not only realized but turned out better than anyone had imagined.”
However, during my first-time visits to both locations, I was a bit disappointed that the “studium view” of both locations did not reach my expectations as others described them. In Coney Island’s case, the entertainment value dissipated over time compared to the Coney Island Koolhaas described during the early to mid-20th century. In the High Line’s case, Gopnik and Goldbeger’s desc
riptions of the High Line were somewhat exaggerations compared to what I have observed.
For a Friday afternoon, Coney Island seemed like a ghost town. The amusement parks were closed or deserted. Closed-down arcades surrounded an empty arcade. More people were in Nathan’s than on the boardwalk and the beach. The activity didn’t even change much as I waited for sunset. However, the small details of Coney Island did impress me. I noticed the garbage cans throughout the boardwalk with words, “Do Not Litter,” or some variation painted on them. Some contained special messages, such as “Mama Loves Shanna” and “Ally <3 Lee,” and little child paintings of the ocean in the midst of the chipped paint and rust. I felt that the ocean was a cemetery for the names that were painted on the garb
age cans, filled with fading cries for a cleaner beach. I also noticed a sticker on a lamp post that said, “You were born original. Don’t be a copy,” as if Coney Island was speaking out to everyone. Coney Island was no longer seen as the “fetal Manhattan” as Koolhaas described, but instead it was its own kind in its entirety (30).
The next day I walked through the High Line on a cloudy afternoon. As mentioned in Goldberger’s “Miracle above Manhattan,” places transitioned around the High Line as if they were like “episodes.” For instance, the 10th Avenue Square was a theater-like complex with the city streets as an infinite stream of motion picture. Continue walking down south and one would then enter the sundeck, a tropical paradise-like section of the High Line. I admired the preserved use of the railroad tracks to echo of what it once used to be and to create an artificial coexistence of 
nature and industrial life with the trees and grasses growing over the tracks. Leisure on the High Line was limited though, from sitting on benches to relaxing on the sundeck. Despite the presence of the lawn around 23th Street, the space was not enough for recreational activities because many would either simply rest or sit on the grass. Jogging was even not an option with the constant congestion of crowds.
While visiting both sites, I noticed some striking similarities. Both attempted to create a tropical paradise-like atmosphere, whether it was the artificial palm trees on the Coney Island beach or the sundeck on the High Line. The murals around the Coney Island boardwalk and the abstract building structures around the High Line both reflected an a
rtistic taste in the societies nearby. Furthermore, the messages on the garbage cans in Coney Island and the concept of the High Line itself reflected society’s interest for preservation. Amazingly enough, both were locations of interest for wedding photos. In Coney Island, a couple, along with their family, took photos on the beach with the ocean and sunset as the backdrop. On the High Line, a couple took photos with the back of a church (around 21st Street) as a backdrop in the midst of people walking by.
Although I did mention that I was a bit disappointed of Coney Island and the High Line as a whole, I admired many of the small details. Will I consider revisiting those sites again? Of course. Who knows what I will see in my next visit?
Works Cited
Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
When I first heard about the High Line, I’ll admit that I had my doubts. A garden on top of an old railroad sounded a bit strange, and possibly dangerous. This wasn’t helped by the fact that a few entrances were closed on the day that I came to visit. I had to wander around the base of the railroad before finding a staircase. As I climbed up, I was shocked by what I saw. Shrubs, grass, and flowers 
were arranged the edges of a path that meandered through the city up in the air. I have never seen a park quite like it before; it combined art with plant life and raised it into the air of one of the busiest cities in the world.
One of the first things that caught my eye were the transitions of old to new, and the natural to artificial and back again. Benches rose from the floor in a seamless slope, moving from the gray 
floorboard to rich maple-colored wood.Old railroad tracks sat parallel with the new walkway, perfectly integrated into the “floor.”A balcony overlooking the High Line Park was shielded by a fence of branches, chunks of wood, and leaves; a natural shield that does not conflict with the aesthetics of the park.
Central Park is a huge span of well-groomed trees and fields in a forest-like setting. This park did not have that option; buildings rise on either side, and cars are both seen and heard as they zoom beneath your feet. I very much enjoyed this aspect of the design; it recognized Manhattan instead of trying to completely rip itself from it. Gopnik describes this balance between the natural world and the reality of city life, “The High Line combines the appeal of those fantasies in which New York has returned to the wild with an almost Zen quality of measured, peaceful distance” (Gopnik). This is not a park full of exotic trees and perfectly arranged, colorful bouquets. The landscape echoes the original state of Manhattan before it was taken over by civilization, “…Corner recommended a wide range of plantings, with heavy leanings toward tall harasses and reeds that recalled the wildflowers and weeds that had sprung up during the High Line’s long abandonment” (Goldberger). This park embraces the past in its design and feel, letting you travel through old Manhattan as you walk the narrow path through the city air.
While I visited the High Line for the first time to complete this project, I have lived across the street from Astroland and Luna Park for most of my life. The Wonder Wheel, Cyclone, and Nathan’s Hot Dog Stand are everyday sights, and not something that stands out. They make up the general aura of the area; “Come have fun for a day. We aren’t the biggest show around, but you’ll have a great time.” This isn’t Six Flags; crazy thrills and broken speed records aren’t what Coney Island is about (unless you are referring to the record number of hot dogs eaten in a sitting). There is a feeling of nostalgia 
towards the neighborhood that’s been entertaining for over a century. This old timey atmosphere is something that I would characterize as the “studium” of my view of Coney Island. As Barthes sees the general settings of his photographs, this atmosphere is the overarching theme of Coney Island.The standard of a classic amusement park complete with a merry-go-round, cotton candy, and a few feature attractions is the first thing that is noticeable about the entertainment area. It is at its roots a family getaway destination for some fun in the sun and a spin around the Tickler.
Miss Argentina
I do love Coney Island for this. However, there is an unusual undertone that’s sometimes hard to miss if you don’t come in on the right day. When you do catch a gem, it changes your whole view of Coney Island. I was lucky enough to capture a photograph of something that would represent my “punctum.” As Barthes describes, “I feel that its mere presence changes my reading, that I am looking at a new photograph, marked in my eyes with a higher value” (Barthes 42).
Meet “Miss Argentina”; this lovely gentleman was kind enough to pose for the camera with his dog and parrot. There is a sense of “anything goes” that sneaks up on you at Coney and gives you a shock when you least expect it. It’s this surprise factor that really defines Coney Island for me. It isn’t just a place for a family retreat; you’re in
for a show. To see examples of just how “interesting” things can get, come see the Mermaid parade in the summer and be prepared for a shock or two.It’s all part of the experience.
Works Cited
Barthes, Roland. Camera Lucida: Reflections on Photography. New York: Hill and Wang, 2010. 42. Print.
Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49.Print.
It was just an ordinary day. I was taking a stroll through New York City when I came across an entrance to the High Line. I had heard about the High Line in the media and from my friends, but I had never actually been there before. As I passed by the entrance on 14th Street, I decided that I wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Everyone always talked about the beauty and the peacefulness found atop the heavenly High Line. It was my turn to experience it. I walked up the stairs and I thought to myself “Wow! This is really –!” I hit the ground like a ton of bricks. A German tourist (I know this because he was speaking German and holding a map of New York – and no self-respecting New Yorker needs a map of New York) walked into me like he was Secret Service and I was John Wilkes Booth. As I’m recovering, standing up from being knocked down, he didn’t even stop to apologize for nearly knocking me into a coma. But I just shrugged it off and kept walking along the High Line. One can say the High Line is like a pinball machine. As I walked, I was getting knocked around like a human pinball, one person smacked me into another, and he smacked me into a third, and so on. I now had a splitting headache and I saw the exit stairs. I was so thrilled as I walked toward them. Then, all of a sudden, a group of about 100 speed walkers walked into me from behind like a stampede and carried me like a wave all the way past the exit stairs. Now I’m enraged and I begin to run to reach the next exit, when I see a bunch of children playing in the grass. This seemed genuinely peaceful, like a scene from a movie. Some of the children were playing by the edge of the High Line, when I began to think to myself, “Huh? The rails are pretty low; the Park’s Department should –!” One by one, the children started climbing over the edge of the rail, plummeting down to the ground below them. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I started running again for the next exit when I saw what I feared the most. Walking towards me was a group of yuppie Manhattanites, with their bow ties and top hats, walking sticks and tuxedo tails, and like always not a care in the world and a complete disregard towards others. I soon found myself on the ground once again, now being trampled by the next hindrance on the High Line. When they finally walked past me, I got myself up, brushed myself off, and ran for the exit. I could see it … it was so close. Right at the top of the exit stairway, there were a group of pirates! That’s right, pirates. I figured that they were pretty harmless, when all of a sudden, a guy walked by and one of the pirates shanked him in the back. As the pirates started to walk down the stairs, I ran by again hoping that the next exit would be close by. I ran, bruised, bleeding, and concussed. I ran, and I ran, as fast as I could. I hit a fence. I turned around and I saw it. I was so proud of myself. I had made it to the end of the line.
“Let’s Take a Walk on the High Line”
I took about 20 photographs during my observation of the High Line Park. I used a separate photo for each of the letters and shapes on the image to show all the views I was able to capture of the scenery. The background image is that of the High Line while it was still in use. The colored letters and shapes spread across the page are meant to highlight the differences between the old and the new. The “person” with the suitcase is walking on an arrow; this reflects the very linear pathway of the High Line Park. I have included some of the photos used within the image below.
It is New York City when vertical and horizontal lines dominate the landscape, when unrecognizable languages assault the ears, and when art is discreetly infused into the landscape. Coney Island and the High Line are both quintessentially New York, however they forge their own experience into the fabric of New York City.
The black, massive overhead railroad, at first glance, seems to introduce a more threatening aspect to the city, unnecessary with the underground subway system in place. Walking up to the top of the railroad, every preconceived notion is instantly destroyed. An innovative and inviting feature of New York City, the High Line, once threatened to be destroyed, creates a new space for visitors (Goldberger). The High Line is an urban park, the floorboards riddled with sprouts of different plants, cleverly reminding the viewer that however urban and architectural New York City gets, no one can ever remove nature from the area. Even the aroma of the plants confused the visitor as to where they actually were – the smells of the city perfectly covered. The scenes of the High Line nearly exhibit a forecast of what may happen if humans were to suddenly disappear from New York City. Like a set from Planet of the Apes, plants took over the urban landscape of the city; however this landscape was more controlled than if run by ape overlords. One interesting
aspect of the High Line is the benches, which look like they are naturally growing out of the structure. The integration exposes the intentions of the designers of the High Line – to introduce a more innovative way of assimilating nature into urban life.
The buildings surround the abandoned line, finally granting the ordinary pedestrian a view of the roofs. Those walking on the High Line seemed always to look outward, toward the river or toward the views of the skyscrapers and littered streets. This reflects one of the purposes of the High Line’s creations – to present the city in a different way. There was something to love in the dark, ruin of the High Line; two heroes (who formed the Friends of the High Line) shared their vision of the saved treasure with the rest of the world (Goldberger). The city is at anyone’s reach while on the elevated line, but far away enough to allow the viewer to appreciate the architecture involved in it. Every part of the High Line is drawn with lines,
horizontal, vertical, diagonal, just as the city is. It is clear that the neighborhood has influenced theHigh Line, the plants frame the buildings, highlighting the profiles of the buildings. In one portion of the High Line, a bleacher like system is constructed, leading to clear glass panels, showcasing the city as if it there were some sort of performance. The performance is clear, the spontaneous happenings of New York City (today it is a wedding right on top of the High Line).
Unlike the High Line, Coney Island is not one single entity – it is a vast, complex neighborhood – including an amusement park, an aquarium, and a stadium. Cutting through the parking lot, the activity of the neighborhood was apparent – many different basketball games taking place, loud music permeating through the air, and whistles blowing from all different directions. The walls of the stadium 
featured 9/11 memorials, listing the brave men and women that risked their lives. Walking further up the ramp, the beach comes to view as well as the iconic “Parachute Jump.” Like in Manhattan, to see the entirety of the structures on Coney Island, one must look up. The Wonder Wheel, Steeple Chase, and Cyclone penetrate the sky – presenting a world of illusion introduced to reality. However, unlike the High Line, Coney
Island becomes almost simulated. Though, this artificiality in the architecture of Coney Island does not halt visitors from enjoying the attractions – in fact it is what draws them in (Koolhaas 35). Becoming “the total opposite of nature” (Koolhaas 33), Coney Island’s purpose is apparent – to build a resort of imagination, constructed in steel, and emblazoned with amusement – “a fetal Manhattan” (Koolhaas 30).
The trashcans seemed to be an emblem of Coney Island, strange enough. Around every ten steps along the boardwalk was a trashcan, but it was transformed into art – a message is placed in the midst of a 
colorful painting “Keep Our Beach Clean,” “Don’t Litter.” Further into the neighborhood was a large mural of … something; people jumping in water, a fish larger than these humans, and huge resigned faces, seemingly everything and nothing at once. Artwork like this littered all of Coney Island, in a way reminding the visitor of the sometimes strange American culture provided by the area. Hot dogs, hamburgers, baseball, roller
coasters, boardwalks, and steel structures, all captured this essence of America, with the compactness and activity resembling New York City. While the High Line provided an escape from the bustle of Manhattan to view it from a different vantage point, Coney Island infused and contained the activity of its visitors. The novelty of Coney Island is well defined, with the old architecture from which it was derived exposed in the styles of the amusement park and the signage of the small eateries. A performance of sorts was occurring at Coney Island as well, a circus of illusion clashing with reality.
It is New York City when words fail in describing the sizzling action occurring through countless moments. Folding into the membrane of New York City are two attractions – Coney Island and the High Line, each capturing an aspect of the future and the past, freezing it into the present and making it available for countless visitors to experience the true New York City – in its various forms as a thriving existence.
Works Cited
Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
The sun specks settled above those closed, unassuming eyelids
Eardrums trembled as rushing vehicles escaped
Cameras out, fingers pointed outward – to something greater than man,
.
For it was fear that strummed gently across the tissues of their hearts.
Urban reconstruction, urban warfare
Man created, and man was dwarfed
Structures piercing the skies they worshipped.
.
In solidarity, they ran.
Framed by the retreating green walls
Entrapped by vertical arrangements
To forge survival
They created a higher line.
Conceived more than 100 years apart, Coney Island and the High Line are two New York City sites which are both products of their times, reflecting different ideas about recreation, culture, and society. The two locations are very difficult to compare, because I believe that they are somewhat different.
Both of these attractions offer its visitors an escape from the world around them. The High Line takes its visitors above New York City, giving them a bird’s-eye view of New York. It contains a handful of artwork dispersed throughout the walkway. The High Line also includes benches along both the edge of the el and near the old train tracks, now overgrown with foliage. It also contains a viewing gallery, where people can sit and overlook the New York traffic as it drives by underneath them.
Coney Island takes its visitors away from the busy streets of Brooklyn and propels them into an entirely different world. Coney Island houses the boardwalk, a peaceful walkway along the Atlantic Ocean. The area also contains parks, ballparks, and amusement parks, and notably an aquarium. It’s the home of the original Nathan’s Famous and also is the end of the line for five of New York’s MTA subway lines.
“The most peaceful high place in New York right now is a stretch of viaduct called the High Line.” (Gopnik). This is the way that Gopnik described the High Line, as opposed to the way that Gorky described Coney Island as a place where people “become a particle in a [gigantic] crowd.” (Koolhaas 68). My personal experiences have brought me to believe that, today, these descriptions are reversed. According to what I saw, Coney Island is a peaceful place to go; whereas, the High Line is a place where one gets lost in an enormous crowd of people, and peace is the last thing one can find.
I found that when I was at Coney Island, most of my time was spent on the Boardwalk. I went on a Saturday afternoon, and I found the Boardwalk to be a very peaceful, relaxing place to be. I was intrigued by the old parachute jump outside of MCU Park, due to its immense size and finding that it was composed of symmetric and repeated geometric shapes. I feel that it is like the Eiffel Tower of Brooklyn.
I found that while I was on the High Line, most of my time was spent shielding myself from other people and tourists around me. The High Line was anything but peaceful. It was jam-packed with people, trendy and rude locals and tourists alike. I felt like I was playing touch football, I would get slammed into from the left and as I was flying right, I would get slammed into from behind. It was so full of people that I could barely walk unencumbered. I do feel, however, that the High Line would be a potentially calm place to be, less the immense crowd.
Both the High Line and Coney Island were the opposite of what I expected to find. Perhaps my off-season visits gave me a wrong impression of the sites. Reading articles and seeing pictures of the High Line, people expect it to be an empty, peaceful place. Maybe the High Line is different on a Saturday afternoon than at other times. Likewise, people expect Coney Island to be a jam-packed, boisterous place, with crowded beaches and the hugely popular Mermaid Parade. But in late September, it is a calm, fun place to be, with thinning crowds. I hope to one day return to the High Line to find that empty, peaceful place, and to go to Coney Island during the peak of Summer and be greeted by a large, rambunctious, but fun crowd of Brooklynites.
Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
Art is contrived from the imaginations and creativeness of people, with the intention of provoking emotions and thoughts within others and reflecting on the recreational and cultural aspects of society. Upon visiting the High Line and Coney Island, both located in New York City, it was a “liberation” from the conventional lifestyle and congested city. The High Line’s and Coney Island’s present designs preserve parts of their historical predecessors, but combines natural elements with a meditative atmosphere and exposure of a different side of life with a freedom of expression mentality that is associated to it respectively.
Approximately a century ago, Coney Island was fabricated by men as a result of the altering attitudes in society, transitioning from a strict traditional lifestyle established by Victorian ideologies of maintaining discipline and abstinence to one with an essence of being more lenient and unserious. People were supposed to work diligently and dedicate all leisure time to work. However, with the evolution of transportation and the rise of labor unions, it enabled them to set aside some money and time for themselves. Amusement parks were created to allow people “to live inside a fantasy” and to explore the side of the world they couldn’t experience in the comfort of the city, such as horseback riding, which “is a form of sophistication not available to the people who replaced the original visitors” and because “real horses can never coexist in adequate numbers on the same island with the new visitors,” artificial horses were utilized (Koolhaas 10 and 37).
When visiting Coney Island, I noticed how Luna Park has been restored to a more modernized look and there was a small firefighter ride, alluding to the Midget City Fire Department that ironically fought the big fire of Dreamland (Koolhaas 49 and 76). The area the Steeplechase Park once occupied for its mechanical horses has now become a Minor league baseball stadium for the Brooklyn Cyclones, with the Parachute Jump being the sole survivor of the park. The external layer of paintings comprised of various colors on walls of buildings along the boardwalk and particularly trash cans portrayed the positive, fun, and exciting appearance of Coney Island, which is emphasized by the use of bright colors, and gave their “accommodations” life, a glossy texture, and additional significance. Street performers could be seen preparing and perfecting acts that told stories not through words, but through movements. Coney Island’s beach provides a natural touch to its surrounding “synthetic” environment, but because of the beach’s physical relative closeness to the urban setting, it is overshadowed.
If one were to juxtapose Coney Island with the High Line, the natural elements of the High Line conspicuously stand out because of its elevated position, which isolates it from the rest of the city. An “elevated rail line” that was previously an “abandoned relic,” was resurrected based on a plan that “struck a balance between refinement and the rough-hewn, industrial quality of the High Line” (Goldberger). Unlike Central Park, the High Line was conceived in a natural way, in that wild plants invaded it without any interference, while Central Park was “cosmetic in many ways,” in which its plants were all planted by humans (Gopnik). When visiting the High Line, I was truly amazed at its transformation from the Sternfeld photo shown in Gopnik’s article that shows “what spring in New York actually looks like when it’s left up to Spring” to a promenade with planting areas consisting of the original plants that were initially there and some introduced by humans, stone plank flooring and fountains that make up the irrigation system used to help water runoff travel to planting beds, viewing platforms to look down on the city and perceive it as being more ordered because of how most garbage on streets looked miniscule to the eye, large areas set aside for performances, etc.
An intriguing structure I encountered was the “Still Life with Landscape” sculpture, which incorporated feeding spots and birdbaths to represent the relationship displayed between the plants that inhabit the High Line and the High Line structure itself. Bisected by the promenade, forming an open gateway, people can physically interact with it while walking through it. The “Digital Empathy” sound tracks installed in the park’s elevators, fountains, and bathrooms were also unique to me because they caught me off guard in the sense that the content of the messages was warm and caring, but the way it executed the delivery of them was through a technological voice that sounded very cold, presenting how two very contrasting things can coincide with one another. The open space of the High Line allows people to momentarily elude New York City’s limited land and constantly growing population and is accentuated by the empty lots and partially vacant residencies that surround it. Gopnik mentions how it is the “most peaceful high place in New York.”
Coney Island and the High Line exhibit the difference between the artificial and natural. However, even though Goldberger and Gopnik emphatically point out the natural state of the High Line prior to its construction, with all of the wild plants growing there naturally without any interference from humans, they are still technically growing on a man-made structure. New York City will forever be a fabricated environment as a whole, and the idea of nature residing in it can somewhat be considered futile, for its original foundations were long disturbed and uprooted by previous generations.
Works Cited
- Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
- Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.
- Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
For more photos, please visit my E-portfolio page!
I remember the day so vividly. The clouds shielding the sun’s rays, the wind whipping my skin, cold to the touch, and the rain pouring heavily, my clothes absorbing the droplets like a sponge, I started walking slowly towards the High Line from the subway station, not equipped with a much needed umbrella. I was in search of an answer. I wanted to take my usual stroll on the Coney Island boardwalk, but the artificial fun nature created by the amusement parks and colorful trash cans would only distract me in my quest. The streets were empty and the buildings appeared gloomy, with the only place with a positive atmosphere being the Starbucks that was directly to the right of me, which was packed with diverse groups of people, many of whom were hanging out with their friends or family members. I wished I could be like one of them, being surrounded by loved ones and sharing the laughter and happiness together. However, my world was turned upside down.
I lost everything that I had known and loved. My friends left me one by one, submitting to death and its subordinates, comprised of diseases and cancers. My family members were always so busy, with my parents working nonstop and my older siblings always hanging out with their friends and preoccupied with their schoolwork. I was looking for a rebirth, an understanding of the agonizing pain that I’ve kept jarred up inside of me for all these years, and learning how to confront it, the High Line seemed like an ideal location due to the natural elements it exhibited. Its elevated state would isolate me from the urban setting, allowing me to think clearly without any interruptions. After crossing many streets, I finally reached the entrance of the stairs that would lead me to the site of my possible rebirth. My clothes were completely drenched at this point and my countenance had an obvious look of depression plastered on it. Without much hesitation, I walked up the stairs, one step at a time, not looking back.
Upon reaching the surface of the High Line, the rain subsided and I noticed the rail tracks incorporated into the stone plank flooring. The stainless steel rails and glass gave it a “clean and shaved” appearance. There were many planting areas scattered around, containing embedded rail tracks and soaked plants with leaves that drooped downwards, with the water droplets dropping in a periodical manner. The benches, made up of a combination of protruding stone planks, metal, and wood, waited for someone to sit on them to give them meaning for their existences, but there were only approximately ten people walking around, primarily using the High Line as a short-cut to get to their destinations a lot faster. I began walking down the narrow path, looking down and noticing how the stone planks served as an irrigation system, permitting runoff water from the rain to travel to planting areas, quenching the plants’ thirsts.
After walking through a tunnel enclosed by a brick building, I continued to pass more planting areas and passed a gathering area with rows of wooden benches descending downwards, culminating with three affixed sheets of glass that allowed people to look down on the traffic flow below. I kept my concentration on the promenade, preventing my eyes from moving in the direction of the tall buildings surrounding the High Line. Suddenly, my eyes were mesmerized by a drinking fountain with a heart inscribed on its push button, which caused me to feel even more tribulation because of what the heart symbolized. I walked towards the fountain, pushed the button, and lowered my head to drink some water. A computer generated voice was emitted from it, but its cold sound and the concerned message it was trying to convey confused me. Why was it using a cold sounding voice to convey a warm message? Perplexed, I took my last mouthful of water before moving on.
As I proceeded on, I stopped momentarily to examine a sculpture called the “Still Life with Landscape,” which was divided by the pathway. It resembled an open gateway produced from thin steel rods, but when I saw that it had bird feeding areas and showers, I was able to understand that it was more than just an art piece. It served a crucial role for the little sparrows residing in the various plants of the High Line. When I noticed a lone sparrow looking around, probably for its “friends” and “family members,” another sparrow flew down from above and perched itself near the lone sparrow. Coincidentally, the two both flew to same feeding area with small black seeds, and together, they feasted on them. The way the sparrow joined the lone sparrow made me realize that although my friends may not physically be with me, they each live in a small place inside of my heart. Although I am not a religious person, somehow, I have gained this notion that my friends are looking over me from above. A cathartic and therapeutic experience, I found the answer I was looking for and felt as if I was reborn, more confident than ever before. The clouds dissipated and the sun shined down upon me, signifying the completion of my rebirth.
Coney Island
Take a stroll on the boardwalk,
With the wind blowing through your hair,
Or ride the Wonder Wheel,
If you have some time to spare.
Nathan’s is the place to go
If you want a bite to eat,
The best hot dogs in New York
Will knock you off your feet.
Take a ride on the Cyclone,
If you have some nerve
But try and hold on really tight,
Cause it’s filled with drops and swerves.
Go to see a Cyclone game,
If you like baseball,
See the Beach Bums do their dance,
And meet Sandy the seagull.
Take a swim in the ocean,
Or lay out on the beach,
Feel the sand between your toes
And have an ice cream each.
If you want to see some fish,
The aquarium’s the place to go,
Visit the walruses and the sharks
Or see the Sea Lion Show.
Come to Coney Island
Winter, Spring, Summer, or Fall,
Any day or time,
You know they’ve got it all.
