8th Avenue used to be my jam. Before the city closed down and I stopped going in. I have only been in the city 3 or 4 times since the pandemic started, and each time I was going to stay with my friend Allison, who lives in the West Village. I miss wandering around the city so much. I ACHE for my city. 8th Avenue is not particularly pretty but you can see all kinds of interesting things on its crowded sidewalks. Because Port Authority is on 8th Avenue, I was always in and around 8th Avenue for my commutes (when I used to take the bus home, that is). I took a lot of good pictures on 8th Avenue. I started keeping my eyes peeled for the random, the incongruous, the beauty next to the grime. Or … the beauty OF grime. And one day, I saw a bunch of bright emerald turf sitting on the pavement. And there was something so strangely hopeful and beautiful about it. New Yorkers. Yearning for a glimpse of green. Where the sidewalk ends.
