A stark, cold, clear beautiful January night.
And then it begins to snow.
The cold wind blows it around.
The air feels fresh.
Mostly deserted streets for a Saturday night.
But heading down Clinton Street I can hear muffled sounds of music and voices that bursts through doors that slam shut and then it’s silent again.
Head down hushed Stanton street past Our Lady of Sorrow and wonder when they are going to bring back the three Shepard kids that used to kneel before her.
“New York is cold but I like where I’m living there’s music on Clinton Street all through the evening.”
Leonard Cohen
Famous Blue Raincoat