(Click here to see a slightly larger version of the above image)
Last night I rode my bike from my apartment at 148th street down to Hell’s Kitchen– 46th street. New York was a maze of police, tourists, families, road-blocks, police horses, and children. I weaved my way slowly down the Hudson, the sun exploding over the Jersey skyline, and finally made my way into mid-town, covered in sweat from the heat and the ride.
Once the fireworks started (shot off of 6 barges, 1,500 shells a minute for 26 straight minutes), I stood back from the group of friends that had gathered on the rooftop of a Hell’s Kitchen apartment and thought about this city. About how hard it’s outer shell is– but how beautiful it’s people are. I prayed for its people and remembered how much I love it here. It was a good moment. And later as Vic and I sat in lawn-chairs and chatted (we felt like the god-fathers at the party), I knew– I felt it– that I’m where I’m supposed to be.
At least for now.
My dream once was to live in NY, be a Broadway star and live at an all women’s hotel. As I look at this montage, I yearn to be young again with all my hopes and desires ahead of me. Many of my friends lived in NY during the 70′s and I am jealous of their pasts. I made other choices. My consolation is my amazing children and grandchildren. May I say, I love your style.
these are somply epic shots adam. great post.
Glad you’re home and happy. Can’t wait to see you again in a few weeks (hopefully). Great pics!