It is uncertain, when staring at a caving ceiling, where beautiful leaves off and dangerous begins. Even when the odd bit of plaster chips off and falls. The question sat atop the room with all the flourish of a feather in a cap. The evening’s meeting brimmed with the work of contemplation.

Entering the house, my host asked me to make sure I ascended only the far left part of the staircase as some work was being done there too. But who could complain, really? The place had style. Later, the assembled group joked with uncertain smiles about remembering to stay right on the way back down the unlit staircase. The host’s warm embrace, however, sent the guests back into the city steadied. Somewhere above, minutes were being typed; the form of things were becoming more solid.

As unlikely as it sounds, half the reason I started blogging was so that I could put up images like these. And others of my friends. Most advice on successful blogging says that you should pick a specific topic and cover it keenly. But what if your topic is only the textures of the city, your camerawork sporadic, your pen unsteady? Well, two years out I can say that not much has changed since my very first post. I am a better writer now. And a more confident photographer. On late nights I would still rather spend my taxi money on food, my weed money on beer, and some of my sleeping time inspecting the many colors of drab that the city has to offer.

These colors are part of my New York — just as much as the shining personalities that illuminate it.

Think you’re so cool Mr. black nerd skateboard hipster? Take that.