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It was just a day in 2011, the 34th anniversary of the Summer of Love, and we took to the streets with our wireless tracking devices.

Some of us were skilled enough to handle two at one time.

They helped us cross the street and told us not to worry about looking up or ahead.

Provided instant dog walking tips and shot pure joy into our ears.

We held them to our cheeks and rubbed their shiny surfaces. They made us whole.

We rightfully shunned those without.

We cradled them.

We swayed to their gurglings as they eased our loneliness and kept our thoughts at bay.

They faithfully kept track of where we went and who we talked to and what we were curious about, lest we ever forget.

 

 

A suave man catches up on the latest.

I like this one.

Not seated.

Contemplative or sleepy man with bird statue bench. The acorn and bird are not to scale. Do not fret; this was the artist’s intent. The man is not part of the installation.

About to make an important call.

On the important call, sharing the bench with Delilah and Indifference, out of town visitors just taking it all in.

We’re not supposed to make eye contact in New York or relationships.

 

At a subway stop last November… 42nd Street maybe? Part of the backlog.

A woman records the moment.

Later that day, maple leaves float in a fountain in Bryant Park.

Meanwhile far away in another part of town…

 

 

Spring has signaled return of the fruit stands, little islands of spherically-contained naturally sugary fruitplosions and fruitruptions all nurtured to fruition by a little bit of warm weather.

…and horning in on the action, a few pathetic inedible houseplants, clad only in their limited shades of green.

People on phones in front of an empty store on E. 33rd near Park Ave.

A view inside the empty store. The high ceilings and open floor space make it ideal for multiple ping pong tables. Reflected in the window, the ghostly images of two pedestrians and two phones, unaware of the ping pong possibility a few feet away. But it might as well be continents.

A woman and a man, mere yearning strangers, pass a closed eatery on E. 34th. Too small for proper ping pong, but perhaps once the perfect place for an after-match slice. I don’t know why the two passersby are not wielding phones. One can only speculate but perhaps shouldn’t.

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I emerged from the subway to a sound I hadn’t heard in many a long year: peaceful expression of first amendment rights. The echo of a man urging the crowd via bullhorn: “What do we want?!?” The crowd, many holding signs, replies: “Lunch, perhaps a nice pita sandwich and fizzy water.”
“With or without mayo?!?”
“With, and chips would be nice, too!”

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I like peaceful demonstration, and even admire demonstration that gets slightly out of hand without involving any violence and afterward the police and the overly enthusiastic revelers settle it over root beer floats. It’s what makes reasonable America so darned interesting.

Does anyone know why the woman in the foreground in focus, but the rest of photo is not? I welcome your photography tips.

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Man sitting on truckload of wood wondering whether his plan would cover him in the event of a catastrophic scaffolding collapse…

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Protest, free speech, alive and well in Times Square

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…while lounge chairs and open space replace cars and trucks…

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…and 21 blocks to the south, a man arranges his fruit.

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June 2019
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