It is a typical summer day in New York City. One man stops in a midtown Manhattan crosswalk, staring down an endless avenue. All around him, human beings lope along the sidewalks, passing in and out of each other's interpersonal orbits. They flow down the outstretched canyon of concrete and steel, a constantly evolving protoplasm of collective consciousness — and yet, individuality. The whole scene springs forth and hits him, a spontaneous choreograph sitting precariously amid infinite and uncaring entropy. In this moment, he is happy — more awake than the world around him. "What a beautiful, terrifying, spectacular thing," he thinks.

And yet, at the very moment he articulates this feeling in his mind, the magic vanishes. The scattered colors before him congeal into the familiar patterns of ergonomic contemporary life. He pulls out his smartphone, snaps an incredible high-resolution, optically-stabilized photo, and uploads it to Instagram. All is lost in translation.

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