A few weeks ago I spent the night at a convent in East Harlem. The nuns gave me a room on the third floor with a twin bed and a wardrobe and one high window and because of the angle all I could see outside was the sky and part of a church rooftop. It […]
Tag: morning
The baker’s shift
Two days a week I show up at a Brooklyn pastry shop at 5:30am to pick up the day’s deliveries. When I get here the lights are on low and the windows are all fogged up. The baker has been here since I don’t know when but the way his bike leans up precariously against […]
Anne Foster 