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  • Before Occupy, there was an occupation we had with the sky.

    There was the dream, it was of gold, but also of the golden winter afternoon.

    There was that speciality of New York City, when the trees drop their leaves, and the sun, weak and gold but pale as new hair, shines through the bare trees. Finally and for the brief season, the shape of buildings is revealed. The gold ghosts of commerce and also of the sky-high domesticity is revealed.

    Before the snow, before the grime, before the slush, when it all goes to a paleness and the brief season of illumination is there, even for one afternoon. When what we call neutral colours combine to a kingdom and the sky is mined by our own orifices and our eyes remember it is a two-way street.

    Then, you're walking and you come by Bryant Park, behind the New York Public Library, just for that one reason: because something in your photographist's heart, something in the unexplained realm of citizenry hits you and draws you back.

    There is this moment, when the buildings have hair, the trees have structure, the world has wonder and architecture, too.

    The low light is all about the unseen rivers.

    The feeling is all about the humble-jumble heart of an island.

    (Photo by Susan)
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