Going back to New York, the place of the gathering, wasn’t exactly my first choice. And yet these strange days left most of us with even fewer choices. The spirit of the city seemed fully committed to its own grandeur, however diminished and ravaged by 2020.
Canal street train station (Q line - Broadway & Canal street).
People did and were doing what they always have; they continued living despite personal and national tragedies. New Ad’s belie the facts - we’ve been decimated.
Canal street & Broadway (the downtown nexus).
Broadway, near Prince street (Everything Zen?).
Prince street near east Houston.
Grand street, SoHo sector.
Broadway, past Howard street.
Canal street NYC, near 6th Ave (Ave of The Americas).
Companies, corporations, superstars and scumbags got theirs while the proletariat took one for the team. Relief was in the air, few wore their masks, aside from their standard one.
Mary Jane went public like an IPO, her disciples out and about. Her delectable scent was in the air like fresh baked goods. It felt good to be home again, familiar feelings rising out of the time fog.
Times Square, New York City.
Times Square, Manhattan (a green disciple).
A sense of wonder and gratitude for a life lived within this concrete, cultured-jungle. My dismay and understanding of the pervasive apathy.
Harlem, across 110th street….
The seeming hopelessness mingled with arrogance, like the filth & conspiracy of political intrigue. Black Lives Matter, but what about black art? Had I become a stranger? Has my love changed for the city that never sleeps?
Broadway between 9th & 8th street.
Broadway near 8th street.
Trump Tower, 5th Ave upper eastside.
Darkness walks within me, therefore “…like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break…” [1].
Bob Dylan - Grain of Sand