Out on the Island.

The Island seen from the Throg Neck Bridge is always the Island seen for the first time. From the roadbed of the great bridge as it twists around in its haste to make go round its back on the Bronx you direct the eye down at opulent, sullen houses that revolve their backs on the land, at yachts bobbing upon the dubious waters of the East River, at the shell of Fort Totten and the muck of Little Neck Bay. Beyond the waterfront lies the interior of Queen and Nassau counties, more [i]or[/i] less of the flattest country upon earth. The City never sleeps; it takes