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Seen a thousand times in films, but always beautiful: rowers in Central Park
Photo: Yael Malka
On this hot summer day, eighteen months after the start of the pandemic, blogger Jeremiah Moss is once again going on a “journey through time to the real New York”, as he calls it – “maybe for the last time.” He rides on his black folding bike with pink spokes to Washington Square in Manhattan and embarks on a hustle and bustle like from the late sixties:
Right behind the Roman triumphal arch, where New York is commemorating its founder, George Washington, a black disc jockey is playing loud hip-hop. A young woman in a clown costume offers “intensive conversations” for five dollars per ten minutes. A scavenger hunt of stoned youngsters cools off by the bubbling fountain. And at the southern end of the square, a demo of black trans activists is forming who want to accompany Moss on her mission. They plan to block the Brooklyn Bridge to car traffic “in order to recapture public space”.
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