Las Vegas is a city always being rebuilt. The city itself as history but so many of the buildings on that "All American Road" are too young to have originally been a part of it. A lot of them weren’t even around when Ronald Reagan was president. In some ways, I think the city is a metaphor for people, and indirectly a metaphor for life. The face of it remains partly the same, and yet it always changes, yet it some ways remain the same. The casinos change but never does the strip, (since 1932), stop having casinos. In some way we are no different. We were five once and had our greenish eyes. We are no longer five and only barely resemble the five year old we used to be. In fact, the thing that connects me to that long ago child is memory and multimedia (such as a photograph or a video clip from some long ago yesterday). However, we still have our green eyes. Details change but others remain the same. The Las Vegas Strip long ago said goodbye to The Silver Slipper, Hacienda, El Rancho, The Sands but Las Vegas Boulevard remains quintessentially the same. A modern day Rip Van Winkle could fall asleep today, wake up a hundred years from now and recognize The Strip. That, like actors playing characters, from Macbeth. The actors change but the characters and their dialogue remain the same. “If chance will have me king, why, chance may crown me” may have been uttered by Orson Welles or John Finch, but it’ll always be said by Macbeth. New actors fill the roles of the same characters. Such, it seems to be the destiny of Las Vegas, perpetually reborn like a phoenix in the helio-womb called sun, cremated, resurrected only to renew the cycle ad infinutum.
Suddenly, my bus arrived.
Suddenly, my bus arrived.
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