Skip to content

 

New York, New York

I constantly keep my eyes out for quiet, everyday moments that are easy to miss but full of feeling. Living in the East Village for thirty years  has shaped how I see the city. When taking photos, I move like a quiet cat—walking, waiting, watching, and listening. Sometimes I’ll stay in one spot for a long time and let the scene unfold on its own. Over time, this way of working has become a kind of visual meditation for me. Whether it’s a girl dancing in an empty Chinatown lot, a couple chatting on top of a newspaper box, fans chasing a music celebrity, or a basketball game under a dramatic sky, I try to capture moments that feel spontaneous, honest, and real.    

 

Silent Static

Subway screeches freeze mid-air,
horns blink out like fractured neon—
a breath trapped in concrete lungs,
where silence drips in spray-painted dreams.

Streetlights hum in fractured tongues,
shadows ripple like liquid glass,
glass towers blink with fractured eyes,
watching stillness swallow sound.

Footsteps melt into vapor trails,
voices fold into smoke and light,
the city’s heartbeat skips and stutters—
time dissolves into the night.

Then with a shudder, chaos snaps,
sirens crack like broken mirrors—
but in that glitch, a ghost town breathes,
a silent pulse inside the clamor.

NY People

Invalid shortcode

 

NY Cityscape

Invalid shortcode

Silent Static

Subway screeches freeze mid-air,
horns blink out like fractured neon—
a breath trapped in concrete lungs,
where silence drips in spray-painted dreams.

Streetlights hum in fractured tongues,
shadows ripple like liquid glass,
glass towers blink with fractured eyes,
watching stillness swallow sound.

Footsteps melt into vapor trails,
voices fold into smoke and light,
the city’s heartbeat skips and stutters—
time dissolves into the night.

Then with a shudder, chaos snaps,
sirens crack like broken mirrors—
but in that glitch, a ghost town breathes,
a silent pulse inside the clamor.