And to Think That I Saw It on Mulberry Street

As you will recall from such posts as PS-1, I was making daily visits to Chinatown to deliver my son to his school. After depositing him, I would head off to the second-nearest subway, the Uptown 6 on Canal Street. And the quickest way to get there was up Mulberry Street. That would lead me, every day, past the Chinese Wah Lai Funeral Home.

Most times, only a couple of cars were parked there. They didn’t have funerals every day, or at least not every morning. So I would pass by and contemplate my mortality until I got to Mosco Street, where I would immediately forget and go about again as if I were immortal.

Still, for that thirty seconds or so each morning, I was reminded of funerals past. Then I had an idea. I would go into the funeral home and visit (is that the right word?) the recently deceased, sign the guest book, and take a picture.

OK, it was just an idea. I didn’t do it. But it would have made for an interesting project, especially now that I don’t take pictures of bedbug mattresses.

I decided to stop walking this way though, after a while. I would walk up Mott Street instead. But before doing that, I wanted a picture of the full ensemble. So I kept walking this way, with my daily reminder that unto dust I would return, until it was finally there, and I took my picture.


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