or a pair of young trees in bloom. I’ve always believed that living in a tiny studio in Manhattan would be tolerable because the entire city is your kitchen, your dining room, and your living room. Why bother with art on the walls when you can go to the MOMA? And why cook when there are a hundred fantastic restaurants within a 10-minute walk?
By the same token, the entire city would have to serve as your garden–from Central Park to the flower stall on the corner. If I could just figure out where to keep a few chickens, I think I could be a gardener in Manhattan.