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Month: December 2021

White Boy

White Boy

(Gabriele’s journal – June 3, 1992) “… white boy pulled a knife on him “I’ll do time for you”…. . (Nick’s narrative – December 3, 2021) The story blew up on my feet one day. A flash of color caught my eye. When I first saw the Polaroid, I never realized its true nature. Now at this same intersection at Canal and Chrystie, three years after I bent down and picked up this strange object, I would, or would not,…

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Stage Blood

Stage Blood

(Gabriele’s journal – June 10, 1992) (Nick’s narrative – December 11, 2021) Blue was visibly shaken when they arrived. He knew innocent bystanders were sometimes the object of their Fury. Frack was the linebacker-sized black cop. Frick was a hippie-biker looking white cop who most often did the talking. “Say hey, Kelly. What have the skells got going here?” I had not met Kelly before today, but I could tell he didn’t like Frick, or Frack. He knew, like everyone…

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Mister Lee

Mister Lee

(Gabriele’s journal – November 28, 1990) (Nick’s narrative – December 16, 2021) “He spit on you!” Blue shook his head disapprovingly. “Never saw you not stand up before. No, I don’t want your knife. And I don’t want no part in no voodoo game or whatever happened here. Take it some place other than the barrel. This is our place.”  “I don’t know about voodoo. But it’s definitely not a game.” I walked over to inspect the ground with the…

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The Trinity

The Trinity

Photo: Margaret Morton (Gabriele’s journal – February 9, 1991) (Nick’s narrative – December 23, 2021) Mister Lee claimed that the inside consisted of many rooms, including one for the Queen of China, the Queen of Germany and the Queen of Russia. His scrawled placard over the door read “House of the United Nations.” Everyone of course chuckled at his incredible claims. I, alone perhaps, believed them as true, or at least as true as my own visions … hallucinations. Reality…

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Geomancer

Geomancer

(Gabriele’s journal – December 6, 1990) (Nick’s narrative – December 30, 2021) In preparing the dirt floor, tilling the ground under the tipi, we had discovered the roots of a tree. I supposed these roots belonged to the lone tree of the Hill’s historical landscape that the Polaroid had captured. Prompted by the enigma, I visited the Manhattan history section at the Central Library seeking to learn more about the site’s past. I read every document I could find and…

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