Wednesday, July 19, 2006


We're just settling in to our friend Jonathan's cosy little upper westside Manhattan apartment. Bens is down on the street finding a car park. Five gunshots ring out clearly, echoing slightly. I shudder. Not being accustomed to the big city, deathly crime thrills and terrifies me. But my husband is down there. What if he was just shot dead, five times? There are more gunshots. Rhythmic. Regular. Constant. The window above Jonathan's dinner table overlooks Central Park. Brilliant bright blue and green and pink patterns fill the inky black sky. Fireworks!! They're welcoming us to New York New York...

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