~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November 23, 2021`

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

February 27, 2023

Snow from 3rd floor window, Brooklyn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

March 9, 2023

John Sayles, cinema hero. Aero Theatre.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

April 1, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 7, 2023

The day Brooklyn was reported to have the worst air quality of any major city in the world.

6 P.M.

At the bottom of the stoop, it hit us. The air thick, hazy, hard to breathe. The sky (and this is no metaphor) was burnt orange. We turned and went back up, stayed in, and monitored air quality on our cell phones. Next morning, in front of the grade school across the street, parents dropped their kids off. Everyone was wearing masks. The playground was a ghost town. The children were kept inside all day. At pick-up time–usually filled with kids running, laughing, skateboarding–was a quiet, quick get-away. The neighborhood was empty. These are streets where people walk, push strollers, bike, linger on stoops. Suddenly, everyone’s gone. You get that “On-the-Beach-Gregory-Peck-Ava-Gardner” feeling. Any post-apocalyptic movie will do. In a day or two, the worst of the smog was gone. A light rain helped cleared what was left. Streets filled back up. Masks disappeared. But a residual uneasiness that something like this could happen suddenly, any Wednesday, any day, remained. Three weeks later, it was back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

June 10, 2023

Mourning doves, window sill. Brooklyn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 6, 2023

Sand, sticks, shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~