When you’re beautiful, man, you gotta pose… and one article about you really isn’t enough.
Thus it was that I was strolling over the Mass. Ave. bridge to meet a friend in Central Square when a voice whispered through the balmy air: “Take me. Take another photo of me. Now.”
“Huh?” I gulped, whipping toward the glistening Charles River in confusion. And it was then that the glory of the scene exploded into my sight. “OH!” I gasped in ecstasy.
At that precise moment, the sun was blazing lower as it set, and at that particular angle, a laser beam of sun was ricocheting from the heavens above, right onto the pure glass panes of the Hancock Building, then zinging forcefully out onto the undulating sapphire water below!
“WOW,” I gasped.
“I told you I look amazing tonight,” declared the Hancock smugly. “Get your camera out already.”
And so, like a tourist lovestruck with a new city (rather than the gal who’s spent 23 of her 28 years in this town), I snapped hungrily away at the blue-framed skyline with my little camera, irritable joggers dodging me while spewing clouds of swears.
It was as if the Hancock had turned into a precipitous waterslide and the sunshine into a child, zipping down the tube into the water below! Wheeee! To the left stood the proud, plain Prudential Building, conceding, “The Hancock really does look sexy tonight. You take those pictures, girl.”
The sun set, and I went to meet my friend in Central Square, giddy from the joy of gazing on beauty.
The next day I was apartment hunting downtown, when what should greet me but another whisper. “You told your readers about how I look from this angle, right?” the Hancock purred. “They deserve a photo to prove it.”
I looked up… and the sexy building was right again! Remember in my previous article how I explained how the Hancock is a parallelogram, not a square, and so it looks freaking TWO-DIMENSIONAL at a certain angle? Well look at the photo to the upper left for proof! Awesomeness! How could I fail to pull out my camera once again?
Night fell and I trudged home through the South End, apartment lease triumphantly signed. Gas lamps shone green through the lush trees and the earth tones of the historic brownstones exuded warmth on either side of the narrow street.
“Psst!” said a familiar voice.
“Is that you again, Hancock?” I smiled.
“Yep!” said the building, “it’s me!” I winked up at the luminescent tower, which had become a gold-striped ribbon against the deep blue sky.
“Safe travels!” called the Hancock warmly. “If you ever get lost, I’m here to guide you… And if you ever need some sexy in your day, you know I’m here to pose.”
“My dear,” I replied, “I am well aware.”
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