What would New York City be without its windows? Come across the Brooklyn Bridge at dusk and the entire city is lit, as if by lanterns stacked one upon the other, block after block after block. City windows whisper of countless anonymous stories whose first line hides in plain sight. Here the story of a bored therapist. There the story of a new mother rocking her infant to sleep just as the garbage trtucks come rumbling up the street. Above her, perhaps the fractioius couple is at it again or maybe they’ve decided to part ways. Or might try once more.
I took this photo at the old Whitney on Madison Avenue a few years back. This cluster of windows, captured within their much larger cousin, reminded me of unread tales in a wide open book.