It is autumn. When the breeze blow, golden leaves roll on the pavement and makes popcorn popping sounds. Christmas seems to be hanging in the air waiting for Thanksgiving to kick off and then corners will fill with fresh Christmas trees again ready for selection.
This is my New York. Seasons come and go marked visibly with changing colors, smell and feel. But it stays the same. The mosque at the corner, the east River two blocks east and Central Park five blocks west. My neck of the woods for the past 11 years.
This is my New York.
New York City