This covers the week of 8/16/20 - 8/22/20.
Two young men are having a conversation on a stoop. "To be honest," one of them says, when an old man walking past them interrupts by shouting, "Don't be honest. Deny everything!" He shakes his cane and cackles.
The Scrabble game is like a scene from a French film full of existential dread. ("Mes mots sont horribles. Je veux une cigarette.")
We walk past shells of restaurants and "Coming Soon" signs that have failed in their promise. The city is showing its ribs. In Times Square, it's easy to keep a quick pace. There are no crowds to push through. We do see one sign of liveliness, though: The Naked Cowboy, in all his cowboy-hatted, tighty-whitie-wearing magnificence. As long as he's there, things can't be too bad. Like a canary in a coal mine – if he isn't singing, it may be an alarming sign of the city's decline.
On the green surface of the lake, small rapidly vanishing white circles show that it's raining. The rain steadily thickens, until I'm squishing around in my shoes.
It's pointed out to me that I'm judging someone with leniency, which is true. I don't have all the facts, and why assume the worst?
In a dim, piney place, there are no children on the swing sets, only a couple of adults enjoying the gentle back-and-forth, the toes kicked up to the sky.
On a cool gray evening, beside a fountain crowned by the statue of an angel, a man sings "Lean on Me." Close by, a middle-aged couple dance slowly with goofy, self-conscious smiles.