"We're the last tire shop in the city," the man said. "How long do you got here?"
"Maybe seven months?" he said
"I don't know. They're talking Houston Street."
"Gotta be east by the projects, they're developing the west side..."
"This is such bullshit."
And then there was nothing left to say because what words were left in the world that could stop barely occupied glass buildings from erasing needed businesses taxis and cars and livery and
delivery trucks relied on to keep New York going.
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.