New York is the current epicentre of the crisis, and my Manhattan neighbourhood has been shut for four weeks straight now. It’s eerie walking out into deserted streets, with boarded up windows, and none of the usual foot traffic and daily energy. It’s a minimalist, aesthetic dream though and I visually appreciate the quiet streets, the lack of cars making it feel almost timeless and drawing attention to the building details.
I only see locals out, walking their dog, lining up for groceries or sitting on their fire stairs drinking wine. They chat, and in Washington Square Park I overhear one older, bearded gentleman say it’s the first time in his life he’s been able to see down a whole avenue. The traffic is minimal. I go for a skate during normal peak hour, and there’s a handful of cars, I have three lanes of Houston street, which splits Soho from Noho and Greenwich Village, to myself, a rarity here. The signs of Spring are in full bloom, and there’s an abundance of blossoms, daffodils, tulips and hyacinths providing a stark contrast to the dead city and a reminder that this situation won’t last forever.
See more of the photo essay here.