Me and Irene.

Our trip to New York City is down to its last 24 hours. It was too short, and I’m not just saying that because it’s always too short. It was actually on the short side. But, alas. We spent the weekend with Irene, same as the millions of other peeps across the East Coast. I tend to come to New York for the exciting times: the 2005 Blackout, the 2006 Blizzard, Hurricane Irene. The hurricane that wasn’t. Yet, was. Parts of Staten Island got smashed; we were five minutes into one that wasn’t. After the rain stopped, I walked in the drizzle and got dramatic:

Among the ‘wreckage’ I found a survivor…

Surviving. Another trip to visit family, another reminder of the long distance relationships I’ve created. Another dilemma. Another flight. Another next time.






2 responses to “Me and Irene.”

  1. […] have some sort of mutated DNA that makes us deal with crap in a different way. A New York way. Like Hurricane Irene last year, only yeah, this time New York skepticism didn’t win […]

  2. […] P.S. I really like photographing snails. […]

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