A rainy Saturday morning in New York. A magnificent train station building that, unlike Penn Station, has just barely escaped demolition. 

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A whole microcosm full of people wanting to travel from all corners of the country to other corners of the country. Or maybe just buying bread. Or sheltering from the rain. 

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There is no better place to arrive in the city, because here the entirety of what comprises New York is concentrated within the smallest of spaces. Hectic, densely packed, an excess of goods and restaurants, and in addition the wonderful Beaux-Arts elements, which actually only the tourists marvel at.