PhotoThe first time I climbed out of the subway stop at Broadway and 157th Street in Washington Heights, I thought I had stepped back in time — and wound up in Paris. I saw the graceful oversize arches of Beaux-Arts windows, the golden sunshine slanting across the absinthe-green patina of copper roofs. I saw huge flocks of pigeons swirling through an open sky, fleeing a hawk wheeling lazily overhead. I wanted higher ground. Old friends had been urging me to come visit them in Washington Heights.

Source: New York Times September 23, 2016 09:00 UTC