5-storey walkup
New York, NY
November 2009
The scene: It's a late night in early November. I'm at my cousin's wedding in New York City. It's been six weeks since my father passed away, and we've brought my mother here, our first family event since losing him. On the one hand, it's a happy occasion we all very much need. On the other hand, my wife and I find ourselves being there for my mother and others when the tears begin to flow.
After a while, I find the experience a bit exhausting, so I step outside for a quick walk around the corner. I bring my camera because you just never know.
And sure enough, I find a sliver of refuge in my lens, a piece of near-forgotten vertical architecture that could never exist where I come from. I crouch down on the sidewalk - well, as much as I can crouch in my suit - and try to compose the low-light shot. The sickly yellow street light seems to add a mournful dimension not only to the scene above, but to my mood. Still, I take some comfort that I've found a quiet moment out here, and know it's only a matter of time before I'll have to face life once more.
Sure enough, my BlackBerry vibrates mere seconds later with a text message from my wife wondering where I've gone. I turn around and head back in, hoping the next tears we see are joyful ones.
Your turn: Who lives here?
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2 comments:
A well written stand-alone piece, Carmi.
Aloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
I like the angle on this. But I have a question. You say it is "a piece of near-forgotten vertical architecture that could never exist where I come from." Why is that?
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