“These here are some real New York ladies.” Nobody had ever come to my defense like this. It was a snowy January afternoon. The weather was cold but the mood was cheerful. Jill and I had just left her apartment in Harlem, near West 100th street, Morningside Park and the majestic cathedral that overlooks it. We were headed to the other side of Central Park, towards 70th street. In New York, you can only tickets for the bus with small change, which you usually only need for laundromats. Standing across from the stony-faced driver, I was digging in my pockets for a few more coins. “Just take a seat,” Jill said. “The driver won’t care, he’s used to it.”
This article is reserved for subscribed members only. If you are already a member, you can log in here below.
Subscribe for full access to The Eye of Photography archives!
That’s thousands of images and articles, documenting the history of the medium of photography and its evolution during the last decade, through a unique daily journal. Explore how photography, as an art and as a social phenomenon, continue to define our experience of the world. Two offers are available.
Subscribe either monthly for 8 euros (€) or annually for 79 euros (€) (2 months offered).
