Windows act as faces of the lives hidden behind them, and sometimes a glimpse can be caught of the other side. As glimpses from the window of a city bus, people standing waiting are very themselves. In New York, all walks of people live together, among each other, yet are separate in their uniqueness, remarkably coexisting every color every size shape and language. Something real about that can only be found in a city and in a particular way New York. I often find greater glimpses of humanity in their faces, their posture, their simple gestures, and their day to day existence.
Life is written on their faces.
In the city, the unexpected crops up among the commonplace, around the next block. You can see different things each time you walk down the same street. There is a feel to New York that is uniquely her own. There is no sameness here. There is no indifference here.