With nowhere to go and no way to escape, it is caught in a perpetual standing wave, a never-ending feedback of cityscape clatter. A world of constant din, where the echoing noise of traffic ricochets off the buildings in a constant, cacophonous roar. But down below, on the level of the street, it is a far different scenario, one of littered, gritty, noisy lanes choked with exhaust and angry taxis, of mad rambling panhandlers and scurrying office workers. From up on high, where the angels sit, Grand Avenue looks very handsome indeed, a veritable showcase of architectural dignity. Many of these edifices were built during the Great Potash Boom of the late 1920s, with all that that entails: sombre Calvinistic capitalist features and a grim, heavy-handed feel. Rising up in straight verticals, and flanking either side, are Grand Avenue's imposing Edwardian buildings, their facades creating two continuous walls. G rand Avenue cuts through the very heart of the city, from 71st Street all the way to the harbourfront, and although it is eight lanes wide, with a treed boulevard running down the middle, the Avenue feels claustrophobic and narrow.
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