The boxes collected from nearby beach towns of Jersey or Coney or maybe even Seneca Falls aren't her voice raging with life and insistence on the work of expression nor are they the seeking hand of her last year yearning for someone to hold it nor are they her gorgeous explosive hair refusing ugliness and age but rather singing singing her indefatigable lust for attempting once more something of promise.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.