The memory of Summer

The memory of Summer in the city will always live with me. It’s easier now, in a mid-January cold-spell, to romanticize the heavy heat radiating off the pavement. In fact, on one of those dog days of August you may have caught me writing a love letter to Winter. Maybe I wish for the freedom of Summer, the weather aside, a period of time where the schedule has fallen away and infinite possibility has taken its place. This day, the day I captured these photographs, the Pope was in town. People had come from far away, taken off work, cut class, and joined in the streets. Everyone was a kid that day. Playing in the water fountains at city hall, dancing in the streets, waiting. Waiting to see one man who rode around in a funny little cart. Maybe he would shake your hand or bless your baby, maybe you just wanted to say you saw him. Whatever the reason, it was just one of those timeless days, where we remembered to be there.

the abduction

On this night, the final night of 2022, I was abducted by aliens on the 600 block of South Street, only doors down from Olympia II Pizza (assumed sequel to the very, very successful Olympia I). Although I look worried, I was really more surprised— I had just enjoyed a very lovely night, eating soup dumplings in Chinatown and walking home in the rain with my girlfriend. As I beamed up towards the spaceship, it occurred to me just how many dumplings I had eaten, and it struck me that I was sort of a human soup dumpling myself. I couldn’t help but wonder whether this made me more appealing to the extraterrestrials.