The Way Of The Ribbon And The Sword

Charlie Pierce: Early on a Friday evening, on the verge of a summer late to arrive, night falls in long shadows on the Leather District and a stream of people. The human tide from South Station has turned. The people who drifted out earlier as commuters, as lawyers and bankers and assistants to the vice president of vice presidents, now come flooding back off the trains as nighthawks, nightclub cowboys, and weekend gourmets on the make. The hustle of well-paid work gives way to the bustle of expensive play, and the area is soon as alive as it was back at noon that day, and even louder, laughter echoing down the alleys having replaced the low, important mutter of hundreds of people talking simultaneously into their cellphones.

Walk down a short flight of stairs on Lincoln Street, though, and you pass from that world, as frantic at play as it is at work, into another place and – if you stay long enough – into another time as well.