New York, New York: In any case, to discourse about New York and its transformation, or you should say its transformations: For transformations are precisely what define the city and what set its conditions of possibility-and what animate the people who live there. You're a New Yorker even if you weren't born there. But you or anyone else can most certainly be a New Yorker even if you weren't born there. You become a New Yorker the first time you say: "That used to be Danny's and that used to be Clancy's," before the Internet cafe plugged itself in and before Starbucks installed itself. You start constructing your private New York the first time the city came into your view. Maybe you were in a cab leaving La Guardia when, on the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, you saw the Manhattan skyline. All your worldly possessions were in the trunk, and in your hand was a piece of paper with an address on it that would turn out to be your first home. You say to yourself: "Look, there's the Empire State Building; look there: The World Trade Center towers." Maybe your first time in New York was when your parents dragged you there on vacation as a baby and towed you all over the gigantic avenues while shopping for holiday season gifts. Your first view of the city from your stroller was the legs of adults on the sidewalks, and you wondered why the sidewalks sparkled at certain angles.