Photo by myself around 6th Avenue and 34th Street.
Not exactly Baby Bjorn, this baby backpack looks authentic.
The fabric had some nice embroidery to it in reds and greens. The rest of the photo was a mess of colors - purplish grey asphalt, the dingy bricks and maroon overhangs of the restaurant across the street.
It looked best in monochrome.
Posting a day ahead of time, I didn't realize it was September 11th once again.
Yesterday on the job site, the contractor for the job I'm working on asked me whether I'd been in New York seven years ago.
We traded stories that were similar to other stories I've heard. They were brief stories about how fearful that day had been, not knowing what was going on, whether it had just been an accident, realizing it was no accident, then wondering what was next.
The contractor had been working on a renovation in Brooklyn. Standing on a rooftop, he saw everything.
I was working on lower Fifth Avenue, where you can see straight downtown. I saw plumes of smoke, and heard snippets of the news blaring on car radios outside. It was chaotic yet deathly silent.
Anyway, I don't want to dwell on the tragedy because part of me still cannot believe it happened. But then, I couldn't write nothing at all.
Related posts: Six Years Ago and Code Yellow.