Most of the skyways...well, actually all of them, are fairly severe in their design and finish. I have made reference to the doo-dad school of design which results in a few post-modern jollities affixed to the otherwise dour face of the skyways. But they are not a rollicking lot. They do not party-on dude. The blandness of their visible structures, the flat industrial finishes and minimal patterning of their carpets contribute to the disorientation most people feel from one skyway to the next. Add to that the inability to see landmarks from most skyways, and the tendency to be completely disoriented is almost complete to newcomers.
I suspect that that is really a strong subtext in the lack of affection we feel for these modest footpaths stapled as afterthoughts to most of our harum-scarum city architecture.
Why do I like them more all the time? I don't know. I like difficult teachers and I like convoluted stories. I like discovering new things in the familiar, and familiar things in the new. I have grown to distrust sheer spectacle, and have grown to depend upon the dependable, not the brilliant, for getting from day to day.
So maybe it takes more than an open eye to see the skyways in their true virtue. Maybe it takes an overlay of imagination that sees mischief and possibility where there is really only practical response to a harsh enviornment.
Maybe it takes more than eyes to see the virtue of Minneapolis. Maybe it takes imagination to see a possible life here, and many happy accidents to make one so.
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