Sandy. Haunting self-portrait reflecting off black windows. A ghost image of myself and the city staring back at me as Bus Doors Closing. Crossing the threshold Between 39th street and The Rest Of The World as everything turns off and everyone’s senses kick into overdrive. Flashlighting my way down the avenue, everything feels sinister, every move a creep, everyone a potential threat. A city turned alley. Only the buses snaking downtown illuminate the path. But even they won’t go south of 23rd.