mi barrio circa 1904
I live on the second corner to the right, half a block up the street. 101 years into the future. How many deeds on such a street? How many passions? How many dreary walks under the scorching New York summer sun? From when this place was an Schorrakin village until this lazy Friday and from now up to the moment when I am nothing but a hopefully righteous memory? Buildings are stronger than men. Memory is stronger than buildings. Shabbat Shalom.
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