In the busiest of cities (at least of those in which I’ve lived), in my old old neighborhood west of Broadway, a mere dozen blocks from my first real apartment that I lived in that first post-baccalaureate year, I sought sun-filled solace.
Eating out every day, not knowing when I would return home to my own kitchen.
A few hundred feet from the Hudson, I found respite and quiet on a patch of grass hidden behind a manicured wildflower garden protected by wire fence.
Eating out every day, not knowing when I would return home to my own kitchen. A few hundred feet from the Hudson, I found respite and quiet in a patch of grass hidden behind
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