I arrived on Monday morning, the plane lowering for a long descent over the sprawling suburban neighborhoods etching the hills far outside the city. It was a relief for the shadow of our plane to cross the familiar blue brown Ohio river and the high hills it has carved for millennia. When we landed in Kentucky, the stewardess welcomed us to the greater Cincinnati area in a curious way, saying “and if you are returning home, I wish you a good homecoming.”
I had a few plans for the week but mostly I was making it up, going where I was drawn. From the moment I descended the steep highway through northern Kentucky leading towards the new skyline of my old city, I felt exhilarated.
Cities continually remake themselves. Each new generation of new buildings fling themselves upon the sky line, determined to stand out, to cast a strong impression, to fill their block with impressive design and claim a life and space for the people who will live within their build walls. The city creates a continually changing patchwork quilt of the new jockeying for position around the old pre-existing structures. It is a kind of living sculpture of relationships.