The first thing I remember I was lying in my bed I couldn't of been no more Than one or two I remember there's a radio Comin' from the room next door And my mother laughed The way some ladies do When it's late in the evening And the music's seeping through
The next thing I remember I am walking down the street I'm feeling all right I'm with my boys I'm with my troops, yeah And down along the avenue Some guys were shooting pool And I heard the sound Of a cappella groups, yeah Singing late in the evening And all the girls out on the stoops, yeah
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.