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.
Walk with Me, Too 