Construction Nashville The cranes right angle over the city, mean nothing but change what we are doing. This ice, newly built, requires a way of walking like a person born a year ago. When I was born, they sent me home in a stocking. I was small and it was winter. I mean, I was small and too soon. I've been walking a little while now, though I don't understand what kind of machine I am, here at the corner of Terrace Place, the pitch and swing of your voice through the phone, swift pendulum of here and away, while, across the street, the cranes pile buildings into the earth.