(9) My husband and I bought our co-op apartment in a prewar building in the historic district of Jackson Heights in December 2016. Dalloway is unable to go out to get the party flowers herself. The wider cultural cosmology of our megalopolis. (7) New Yorkers tolerate tiny apartments because we live publicly. Which is all about family, means togetherness. (6) I am an immigrant from Asia, a son of immigrants. The less you earn the more people you serve. Queens is an immigrant, working-class enclave, most of its residents employed in service industries. (5) Neighborhoods with the highest number of Covid-19 cases per capita were areas with the lowest median incomes and the largest household size. True, someone may tell us: / ‘You’ve got in my blood, the room, the Spring’s’ . . .” (4) From Rainer Maria Rilke’s Duino Elegies, the Second Elegy: “. . . we breathe ourselves out and away from ember to ember / yielding a fainter scent. I figured I’d stay fit and run in the mornings and “be productive” while waiting for the pandemic to stroll on by. I picked up my running shoes from my office at Columbia University. On the subway my skin was prickly, my body vigilant. (3) Friday, March 13, was my last trip to Manhattan before sheltering-in-place. At the peak of the Covid-19 pandemic, in April 2020, Queens, specifically its western triangle of Corona, Elmhurst, and Jackson Heights, was the epicenter of the epicenter. But when peeled away, diversity is exposed as disparity. (2) I live with my husband in Queens, the storied borough of New York City frequently cited as the most diverse place in one of the most diverse metropolises in the world. I stood as witness with the maximum tilt of the Arctic Circle toward the sun.
(1) On the longest day of the longest year, I did not sleep. Corona Avenue, Queens / Photos by David Rohlfing
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