Observing the desolation of dust and tarpaulins wrought by plumbers and contractors in their reconstruction of my apartment in search of a leak in the ancient plumbing, I was reminded of Gregory Crewdson’s upstate portraits of anomie. No massive stage sets or smoke machines in this tableau, however.
Saw this by the reservoir in Central Park, walking home from the museum.
On our way and after the obligatory barred owl viewing, I was struck by the beauty of several individual trees in all their resplendent Autumn glory. It helps that I’m in the middle of reading the latest from one of my favorite living authors, Richard Powers’ The Overstory.