Spring 2006 SLAM! - Congrats to the winners - see you all next time! |
Brooklyn, 9/01/2001 Ten days before, we walked the Promenade, camera lingering on Emma's honeyed, wind-mussed curls, toddler cheek pressed against wrought iron curves, her body a sapling's twist, supple and young while behind her stone angels wept plaster down aging brownstones, high-ceilinged dwellings where giants must once have lived within vine-tangled brick, steep steps with carved banisters where urns squat like ceramic trolls with lipstick-blossomed begonia hair, unintentional mimics of the Goths who wander streets of the Village just across the river where the buildings stretch as if trying to escape the bounds of this cramped landscape of concrete and steel and smog-dimmed glass. Air heavy with exhaust and expended breath like popped thought balloons, the shatter of jackhammers, lingering quiver of distant sirens like an urban song and beside a wedding party, tipsy laughter and iridescent lavender shantung, Aron pauses at the railing. Through the lens I see him in profile, once-removed as if he occupies a distant land and beyond him, beyond the modern River Styx, two towers still stand tall as I release the shutter. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you're going to walk on thin ice, you might as well dance! |