ONE LAST HIGH

摘要

'It looks like Oz. This is what I think as Manhattan comes into view through the windshield of my friend Dave's jeep. The crowded towers poke the sky with their metal and glass and in the midday haze look faraway, mythic, more idea than place. We're driving in thick traffic that moves swiftly and in unison. A month ago I hadn't noticed the city receding behind us as we drove from Lenox Hill Hospital to the rehab in White Plains. Between Lenox Hill and rehab I've been in treatment for six weeks.