As change comes again to the Divine Lorraine, an elegy for the jewel of North Broad

I keep a spool of green thread in the top drawer of my desk. It reminds me of the day, more than a decade ago, that I stood on the 10th floor of the abandoned Divine Lorraine - God's own kingdom - and stared out at Broad Street. I had grabbed the spool on a whim from a sewing tin left behind in one of the rooms. It's a remnant of a Philadelphia I wish I knew and the Philadelphia I first came to love.