The July heat bounces off the pavement as "Waterfalls" blares from a passing sedan, competing with the rhythmic *clack-clack* of kids slamming heavy brass slammers into stacks of Pogs on the sidewalk. Through my viewfinder, I catch a girl in a plaid slip dress and knee-high socks adjusting her tiny nylon backpack, her minimalist silhouette sharp against the grit of the Port Authority.
Some flannel-clad slacker leans against a newsstand, sighing at the headlines about budget cuts while the smell of cheap exhaust and hot asphalt fills the air. I click the shutter just as he rolls his eyes, capturing that mid-nineties apathy before the city noise swallows the moment whole.
Memories from that day
No memories yet. Add yours if you remember this day.