Spent the afternoon in Chinatown, and it was so reassuring to see the woman on Mosco still serving cheap pork dumplings like nothing’s changed. Then I stopped at my favorite deli on Grand Street for a nostalgic sandwich: hot coppa, mozzarella, vinegar and oil, and a few peppers. It’s just a sandwich, but I got a bit misty-eyed as they handed it to me while I waited on the sidewalk because of the virus. These spots on Mosco and Grand have been in my life for nearly twenty years, and their presence is more reassuring than ever now that the rest of the world feels like it’s being rearranged each night while I sleep. I need all the anchors I can find.
Rode the subway home in an empty car except for me and an old woman wearing a t-shirt that said, “Love is so gangster.”
John Lewis died today. It feels like an omen, the loss of this compassionate and brave lion amidst the news that federal paramilitary units in Portland are tossing protestors into unmarked vans.
