On the Bowery
I’d watch the shadows flow across the ceiling for hours, slow, heavy shapes moving up and down the walls and around the room. Waves of heat thickened the steamy air. No one in the city could sleep. I’d sit by my window late into the night. No lights were on in my apartment, but outside street...
Taste
Our grandmother, our Bubbeh, was proud of her ability to turn a cooked cow’s brain out onto a plate with all of the delicate folds intact. Zaydeh smacked his lips as he covered the surface of the brains with coarse black pepper. He held out a forkful of spicy thalamic lobe to my older brother....
Cornelia Street
The first time I saw Cornelia was at a dance, at the Cultural Center at No. 3 where folk music was playing and night moths gathered on trumpets as if around a street lamp in the dark. Children knew by heart the precise number of cobblestones in the pavement. And Cornelia had a little metal...
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