I discovered the Frick my first week in New York, during a heat wave in August. The galleries were surprisingly empty, with only the occasional visitor strolling through the rooms, gently creaking the floorboards. I stood for a while in front of the Bronzino, a portrait of a boy standing against a background of green drapery, and then sat in the courtyard for a long, cool hour.

Its a great Saturday after museums visit, a Viennese Cafe, for a clear white wine and apple strudel.

Coming back from from New Haven, we got off at Grand Central and he took me down one of the concourses to the place with the vaulted ceiling. He stood at one corner and I stood at another and we whispered into the walls, our voices drifting across to each other.

A living archive preserving history and promoting scholarship of grassroots urban space activism by researching and archiving efforts to create community spaces. They also exhibit materials that document these actions, to educate people on the political implications of reclaimed space.

Mcgolrick Park at midnight in the snow. Any early morning with all the bums and drunks passed out on Nassau Avenue. NYC still looks best between 3am and 6am, just before the light comes in to shine on all its flaws.