Picture This

How September 11th Got Me Back to Photography

A Brooklyn Winter:
Looking across the light court, gads, I saw them coming out.  Clad in cheap coats of hunter green nylon and fake fur around the hoods, I saw them emerging from my room.  Whatever gate had been drawn across the window had been breached.  I stood frozen in shock, speechless like L.B. Jefferies in Hitchcock’s Rear Window, struggling to get a phone in my hands to dial 911.  Hands trembling.  My roommate and I had just been robbed.