The building I live in is really quite modern. It was in the NYT because of its free breakfasts – which I haven’t sampled yet, but due to the great depression I may well soon.
They take real care over how the lobby and even the street looks.
To the point where, whilst walking home from a particularly refreshing meeting this morning I was greeted by the word SEX spelt into the dirty street with a pressure washer jet.
In some circles this might well have been street-art, but to me it was a smile-maker, a welcome act of mischevious play that lightened my day.
