Everyone rushed to the railing to take a picture of the Lady. Everybody, not just the tourists.
She was still and forever our promise for a fair, an equal, a just life in a fair, an equal, a just country.
A younger than me but older than young woman, dragging her older than me but younger than ancient mother behind her jockeyed their way closer to the view. Then, in what sounded like Russian, the daughter told her mother to pose with the Lady and quickly snapped several pictures.
Whatever journey that mother and daughter had traveled to that moment, they now had, from those quiet camera clicks, proof of the promise. ** Related Posts:
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.