A My Private Coney project Flash non-fiction, brief moments and old memories of a city and mother's emotional and physical real estate disappearing at the speed of heartbreak.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Spring Is In The Air Or At Least In The Hallway
Knowing when Rags was headed out for a walk, Jupiter had trained me to open the door so he could gaze upon his unrequited love.
But today, the weather softer, the days longer and rumbles of urges to linger at trees, Rags, tail wagging cheerfully gave Jupiter the equivalent of a flirtatious shy hello - she followed him into the apartment.
And what did Jupiter do when faced with the possibility of an actual conversation with the dog he loved? What every wooing beau does. He ran in the other direction.
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.