Between the thirty daily emails, the late night visit to a suddenly broken heart, the rapier wit, the crystal clear feedback, the willingness to seek the perfect burger, the leadership by example and the companionship in the constant search that shouldn't be rare but often is, there is nothing left to do but to quote Florence's favorite verse from her favorite song. You're the purple light Of a summer night in Spain, You're the National Gallery You're Garbo's salary, You're cellophane. *You're The Top, Cole Porter
(YOU'RE CELLOPHANE WAS FLORENCE'S FAVORITE LINE AND AS WE SANG IT TOGETHER SHE WOULD BURST INTO CACKLING LAUGHTER)
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.