Dear Diary:
Midtown, Sunday, Dec. 8.
Just as a light dusting of snow began to fall, the close crush of bodies crossing Seventh Avenue at West 35th Street surged around a young couple, speaking French, and two small daughters, all holding hands.
Some of us, quickening our pace to get out of the thickening flakes, were checked by the tiny, bemittened human barrier, mid-intersection. The tension of the moment dissolved when one of the girls, swaying a little, her arms straining to hold on, piped up, “I love New York City!â€
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