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Clifford Thurlow

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“A city street equipped to handle strangers, and to make a safety asset, in itself, our of the presence of strangers, as the streets of successful city neighborhoods always do, must have three main qualities: First, there must be a clear demarcation between what is public space and what is private space. Public and private spaces cannot ooze into each other as they do typically in suburban settings or in projects. Second, there must be eyes upon the street, eyes belonging to those we might call the natural proprietors of the street. The buildings on a street equipped to handle strangers and to insure the safety of both residents and strangers, must be oriented to the street. They cannot turn their backs or blank sides on it and leave it blind. And third, the sidewalk must have users on it fairly continuously, both to add to the number of effective eyes on the street and to induce the people in buildings along the street to watch the sidewalks in sufficient numbers. Nobody enjoys sitting on a stoop or looking out a window at an empty street. Almost nobody does such a thing. Large numbers of people entertain themselves, off and on, by watching street activity.”

“[Public housing projects] are not lacking in natural leaders,' [Ellen Lurie, a social worker in East Harlem] says. 'They contain people with real ability, wonderful people many of them, but the typical sequence is that in the course of organization leaders have found each other, gotten all involved in each others' social lives, and have ended up talking to nobody but each other. They have not found their followers. Everything tends to degenerate into ineffective cliques, as a natural course. There is no normal public life. Just the mechanics of people learning what s going on is so difficult. It all makes the simplest social gain extra hard for these people.”

“Don't the humans want a white New Year's? We can make that happen." I slid my hand off her leg and around her lower back, leaning in to kiss her neck. "It's a white Christmas." She laughed, looking out the window, the gentle rush of traffic in the background just beyond our private street the only indication that the city outside of our little world had moved on with its day. "And I think we've already done that. Well... a white Boxing Day, at least." "Hm." I leaned in and kissed her neck. "I think we can do better." "Devin..." "Yes, darling?" I let a hand wander, feeling the goose bumps down her arm. We can't spend all day in... bed." "I have a few ideas that won't require a bed." "You're incorrigible," she said, turning red as she tried to hide her smile. "Fine. Let's have a snow day.”

“The sun was setting on the horizon. Mother Nature had painted the sky in hues of pink, purple and orange. Our feet slipped and slid as we walked on the sand, breathing salt air. Waves crashed against the shore rhythmically and gusts of wind howled around us. Families could be seen strolling along the beach despite the frigid winter wind that was blowing. In the distance, a group of orphaned children could be seen flying a kite, unaware of the cruelty that exists in the world.”