Away from New York for two weeks, I came back Saturday evening. I had things I’d be doing again. Holding my sign every weekday morning the most central. Walking every afternoon along the East River for an hour. Going to the coffee shop to read the Times.
I got an email while I was away saying a library book I'd requested had come in. For a moment as I walked from the subway with my two heavy backpacks, I thought I’ll get that tomorrow. Then I realized tomorrow was Sunday and the city's neighborhood public libraries are not open on Sunday, I got mad as I always do when I think about that. The place I’d been for two weeks, their library was open on Sunday. Not here? With all the immigrants, and poor people, and students, and people living in apartments? Millions.