One of the first books I read this year was set in New York, called Netherland, and while the book itself didn't set my world on fire, I was intrigued by its description of a 'park' called the High Line.
When the Old Boy, who is currently playing mine host to the Wench and I on holiday, then mentioned it as one of his favourite parts of the Big Apple completely unprompted, I instantly remembered it and my curiosity was piqued.
So, we paid a visit. And it's wonderful.
An old, disused elevated freight line built in the 1930s and last active in the early 1980s, the High Line is the best of people making the most of what the past has provided but no longer needs. Walking along the elegantly designed route, in between the shrubs and flowers which mingle with the old railway track, and admiring some unusual views of Manhattan, it's great to see something which had fallen into disrepair transformed into such an attraction.
The last thing I want is for this blog to turn into a travelogue (travelblog?), but I can't help reflecting on the fact that books I am reading and the knowledge I am accruing as part of this challenge are impacting positively elsewhere in my life.
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