Oh, you two haven’t met? Let us introduce you.

Carl doesn’t live inside or pay sky-high monthly housing costs. He’s never been spotted grabbing coffee or running an errand. But you’ve seen him around. He’s tall, skeletal… Permanently mid-gesture, like he was about to do something important and then got distracted for half a decade.

He’s been here for years. And he’s a very consistent Tribecan. Waking up before the rest of us, hovering above Park Place as the sun comes up over the Hudson. He watches our morning walks, school drop-offs and commutes. He’s there to see us rush through our errands, return home, welcome our friends and family.

Carl is legendary, really. He never takes a vacation. He never calls in sick. In fact, he never leaves. His brother lives in San Francisco. What do we call him? Oh, yes. Karl the Fog, always drifting in and out. But we have Carl. Less poetic, with way more staying power. Fog comes and goes. Carl just stays.

What did you say? No, of course not. He’s not the physical embodiment of broken promises. No one can refer to him as a giant metal reminder of what happens when developers are allowed to make grand commitments, extract value from neighborhoods, and then walk away, leaving communities with years of blight, uncertainty and unfinished dreams. 

Now look. You’ve upset him.

Anyway, you two should get to know each other. Exchange phone numbers or something. That way, each time you walk by, you can ping him and say hello.