my brother drives me across the williamsburg bridge on his 1967 honda motorcycle and although we are wearing speed racer helmets i feel like i could be an actress in an old french film with the cigarette dangling from my lips and my hair blowing in the wind as the city skyline whirls past us.
i passed an small old lady in the street today on 7th avenue in manhattan and i asked if i could take a picture of her in her dark grey bowler hat and thick tortoise glasses and as she kindly declined she explained to me the only reason she was wearing the hat is that she has such a small head and has been looked for years for a new hat but never found one that fit. ah, isn't life just like that. i still took a picture of her but from behind as she slowly walked ahead from where i stood.
when we were walking to get lunch today we witnessed a dog who had gotten hit by a taxi. there were three people huddled over the dog on the sidewalk and there was blood and panic and we crossed the street without even looking up to not have to bear witness to the tragedy.
showers never feel as good as they do here as they wash all of the dirt and grime of new york city off your body swirling peacefully down the drain to the sewers beneath.
i think everyday about the fact that new york, or more specifically, brooklyn, is like no other place in the world and nor will it ever be. more on that later.