A couple of weeks ago I announced that the demolition of Atlas Meats had begun. It's moving along at a lightning-fast clip. Most of the historic building is already in rubble.
Above the wasted landscape of fallen bricks and dust, the painted red and pink lipsticked mouths of Diane Von Furstenberg's flagship hover, like alien spacecraft after an attack, surveying the destruction.
On the ground, the demolition claw grabs a hunk of twisted metal, shakes it in its massive fist, and lets it drop, a dog worrying its prey to break the neck.
A whole world is vanishing before our eyes.