One rainy night in March 2009, I found myself in Brooklyn Bridge Park, aimlessly shooting film while talking to my father on the phone. My mother had passed away the previous September, this was the latest in a series of phone conversations to feel that I was still somewhat involved with my family, even if they were hundreds of miles away. I guess you could say this is the way I’ve viewed New York: distant and cold, but still beautiful and a place I’m glad to be, even if I’ve had to give up a lot to be here.
— By Davis Cox (submitted to “New York City”)
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