In the ghetto

OK, there's really no ghetto left, but I am living at the very edge of safety. Across from my apartment building is the giant Jacob Rus housing project, standing in the way of me and the East River. Today at last I strolled through unable to refuse the burnished light of a late autumn afternoon another day. It was my first attempt at a water sighting on the East side and certainly my last for some time.


The first thing I had to contend with was the mounting fear I might be shot by a sniper, thanks to the menacing atmosphere of eerie quiet and clean-swept sidewalks. As I cleared the brick towers though, to my left I saw a Mysteries of Pittsburgh-worthy scene, which gave me enough comfort to carry on, though that comfort didn't last.


The waterside walkway, like the rest of New York City, was under construction. No sooner had I bellied up to the edge of the site than someone coughed behind me, "Ma'am, you have to leave"

"Really? There's no sign?"

"Hel-LO, it's a construction site."

"Hel-LO, no sign."

But I was leaving anyway. I wanted to get back through the project before the gloaming ended.