Once I had a vision, or was it a dream. A street sign in an unremarkable part of Manhattan, let’s say 28th Street, in the limpid atmosphere of autumn night. Set against gray and brown buildings and perhaps a tree. In this image were all my failures and all my grief and hopelessness. Like I’d arrived at my bleak destiny. I saw this in my head many years ago, before I’d even moved to the city, and I did not know why. I didn’t feel hopeless and I still don’t. But I remembered it from time to time.