Anecdote of the Arch

We’re driving I-64 for 320 miles when we get to East St. Louis and notice how this part of it, anyway, looks like any place with a Lowes and a Wal-Mart and fast food ghettos.

Then suddenly in front of us the arch glows in the white sun, rising above the bridges and underpasses, taking dominion over the slovenly wilderness. The arch is tall, like the air, a gateway like nothing else on this or that side of the river.

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