(Bloomberg Opinion) — In Times Square on Sept. 11, a little before 9 a.m., time seems to have stopped, and not to mark the moment of the terrorist attacks 19 years ago. It’s just another quiet morning at the crossroads of the world, with barely enough traffic to keep the tumbleweeds at bay.
The giant billboards still flash, but not the desnudas. There are no Elmos or SpongeBobs, no Spidermen or Batmen, no Lady Liberty on stilts, no slow-moving crowds to dodge, no souvenir peddlers. It would be wonderful if it weren’t so awful.
At the corner of Broadway and 42nd Street, a sign marks the beginning of the Lincoln Highway. I once spent an hour asking passersby if they could tell me how to get to the Lincoln Highway. The replies, from those patient enough to respond, were variations of the same refrain: Nope. Never heard of it. You
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