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THREE DAYS TO SEE (page 10)
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I hurry to the top of one of those gigantic structures, the Empire State
Building, for there, a short time ago, I "saw" the city below through the eyes
of my secretary. I am anxious to compare my fancy with reality. I am sure I
should not be disappointed in the panorama spread out before me, for to me it
would be a vision of another world.
Now I begin my rounds of the city. First, I stand at a busy corner, merely
looking at people, trying by sight of them to understand something of their
lives. I see smiles, and I am happy. I see serious determination, and I am
proud. I see suffering, and I am compassionate.
I stroll down Fifth Avenue. I throw my eyes out of focus, so that I see no
particular object but only a seething kaleidoscope of color. I am certain that
the colors of women's dresses moving in a throng must be a gorgeous spectacle
of which I should never tire. But perhaps if I had sight I should be like most
other women—too interested in styles and the cut of individual dresses to
give much attention to the splendor of color in the mass. And I am convinced,
too, that I should become an inveterate window shopper, for it must be a
delight to the eye to view the myriad articles of beauty on display.
From Fifth Avenue I make a tour of the city—to Park Avenue, to the slums, to
factories, to parks where children play. I take a stay-at-home trip abroad by visiting the foreign quarters. Always my eyes are open wide to all the sights of both happiness and misery so that I may probe deep and add to
my understanding of how people work and live. My heart is full of the images of
people and things. My eye passes lightly over no single trifle; it strives to
touch and hold closely each thing its gaze rests upon. Some sights are
pleasant, filling the heart with happiness; but some are miserably pathetic. To
these latter I do not shut my eyes, for they, too, are part of life. To close
the eye on them is to close the heart and mind.
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