Is one who dreams a fool, or one who implements his dream badly?

For years, there was a fruit market on the corner of 30th Avenue and 35th Street, around the block from me. It always had fruit and vegetables beautiful enough to photograph, was a bit too expensive for the neighborhood, and would close around 9 every night whereas other neighborhood fruit markets would stay open all night. I seldom bought anything there, but enjoyed walking by it, taking in the view of some of the most beautiful produce I’d ever seen.

About a year ago, the place closed, and after about six months of construction, in its place opened “Corner 30”, one of many nicely decorated sidewalk cafés on that street.

Many of those sidewalk cafés actually have pretty good food, so I thought I’d give Corner 30 a try. It was overpriced and terrible. Its offerings had no sense of style or identity, and its food tasted like it was made out of obligation. The place closed after only a month, 1/6th of the time it took to build the damn thing.

Six months later, the windows remain papered over. I noticed yesterday that the small potted evergreen bushes sitting outside had died, and somebody had taken (or stolen) the pots, leaving the brown trees collapsed on their clumps of potting soil, ground pointing up at a 45° angle. Perched in front of a clearly ill-conceived business, they seemed like tombstones to the dream of the proprietor, as temporary and as worthless as the dream itself.

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