Brooklyn Bridge @ Sunset

A German-language adaptation of a French novel by a gay author about sexual assault and racism propelled me to Brooklyn for a Saturday matinee.  History of Violence isn't for the faint of heart.

I hadn't walked across the Brooklyn Bridge since before retirement, when the City's Health Department relocated to Long Island City, nearly a decade ago.  Since then Instagram has put DUMBO on the map.

New York's beauty differs from that you find out West, but I'd be hard pressed to rank them in a contest, especially at sunset.

The reflective surfaces of the buildings at Hudson Yards glow almost radioactively in the distance.  I noticed the same effect on the high rises that have mushroomed in Long Island City when I took the Airtrain in from JFK Airport at dawn last week.

California and Arizona weren't as crowded with tourists, that's for sure.  I saw a woman knocked down by the crush of bicyclists and pedestrians on the bridge.  NOBODY pays attention to the designated lanes and directions.

I detoured past City Hall, too.  Hard to believe I used to go there for weekly meetings in the wanting days of the Bloomberg Administration.