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, February 4, 2014
Rock. Hard Place.
Walking again has been a thrill.
I told a friend how lucky I was to be alive in a time where, after a forty-minute surgery that fixed me right up, I got to go home. If I had been born a century ago, I would have been lame for the rest of my life.
But, he said, if you had been born a century ago, you would have been born into Her New York, a city that welcomed everyone to the table, not just those who could afford insane rents for renovated tenements.
It made me think of this walk-up down the street. The Florence.
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.