Crown Heights begins in the shadow of the Brooklyn Museum across Eastern Parkway, an Olmsted creation. Once a posh bedroom community, the subways are interred under the street.
The boys try to ignore the girls in the park after school lets out.
Or flirt on the mailboxes.
Selling cotton candy.
I just can’t say what this is.
Townhouses on huge lots along treelined President St.
Crocs on Yom Kippur. No leather foot ware.
Bunnies under the Mitzvah Tank. A garish RV parked on the street.
A copy of the Tora, papers on the wall.
A sukkah awaiting a covering of branches for Sukkot.
The corner of President and Utica. The woman comments to her children as they pass, “This is where that they killed that little boy.” She is referring to riots that broke out in 1991 after a Rabbi’s car in his motorcade ran a red light, got struck by cross traffic, jumped a curb and killed a Guyanese boy. During the riots an orthodox visitor from Austria was murdered–long simmering tensions between the black and the Jewish communities.
An old woman makes her way down Utica.
Boys in front.
Books for a dollar.
Here, you carry it.
In the crosswalk.
A selfie and a squirrel.
God’s Kingdom in front of the Albany Houses.
Insane art no matter what Sano says.
Veggies, the man in the center of the photo is handing them into the basement.
The man on the right said, You know what you are doing ain’t right, man.
On Eastern Parkway again. Each bench a story in and of itself.