Canal Street
May 9, 2020

Season

Time feels like an increasingly fictional concept as these weeks and months continue to bleed into one very long day. Even the weather is confused. For a few hours last night, snowflakes fell across New York City, the first May snowfall since 1977.

As the city prepares to reopen, this summer might feel even weirder than this springtime of isolation and suspension. We’ll be returning to a world we once knew only to find everything utterly changed: the way we shop and eat, how we ride the subway and pass one another in the street. Already it seems like wearing a mask makes some people far too comfortable with yelling at strangers, as if it’s an extension of an online avatar.


The Caretaker – Misplaced in Time

Everywhere at the End of Time | 2016 | Bandcamp
Each night in 2020 I'm writing a short post for a series called Notes From the End of a World because I want to etch these days into my memory before I forget them. Before the world changes completely.
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