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I lived here at 252 E 89th St. long ago. It’s been over 50 years, and the white sandstone facade has changed to a uniform brickwork across three neighboring three entryways.
My landlord and I were at odds so frequently. We spoke so often that I felt like we had become fast friends.
My apartment on the first floor opened out to street noises via the a.c. sleeve.
The sudden sound of a voice seemingly in my home often surprised and disconcerted me.
My memory may be imperfect. I often doubt myself.
This is what I remember vividly. I am reminded every time I pass this way.






























We had a red front door on the family home in the Berkshires. My coop chose bright red doors for its four entryways.
There is something distinctive and vibrant in the choice.
These homes are old, gnarled, and exotic. They are clearly, as are so many historic properties, a challenge to maintain. It’s also a challenge for an owner getting older to tackle their steps and the 3 storeys of living space they encompass.






