The New Yorker: Handel's "Messiah," on Skid Row

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The New Yorker: Handel's "Messiah," on Skid Row

The spell dissolves when you leave the Midnight Mission. The people that walked in darkness are still there. Hard stares greet you as you proceed to your car. This feeling is, if anything, even worse than the one that hits you going in. The entire experience is at once exalting and crushing, luminous and bleak. “We get to leave,” Gupta said. “That’s the source of our shame. The only way to deal with it is to go back.”

– Alex Ross, The New Yorker

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