Duck Prints
I was walking to my boyfriend's house in the rain when I walked by my favorite cellar door. To maximize space in a tight city, restaurants and stores in NYC have basement/cellars which are accessible through trap doors set into the sidewalk. They open out, but still, every time I step on one I feel the queasiness you get at the edge of a cliff, knowing how close you are from free fall.
This is my favorite cellar though, because at some point when the cement was still drying someone or (SOMETHING) marked it. To me it looks like a smallish bird and/or dinosaur popped out of the cellar, took a short walk to look around, was not impressed, and then headed back inside.
It gives me a little giggle of absurdity. I adore these small happenstances of a city. You'll never know the answer of why someone paintstakingly carved bird tracks into the sidewalk...just like
You'll never know who painted sharks onto the wall near your gym.
Or who, in Oakland, CA blacked out the E in Bateman street like a champ:
Or if bunnies really are frequently crossing this street in Palo Alto.
Or what exactly this sign on the side of the New York interstate highway is meant to say:
Or why someone tied a doll head to a tree in India:
Or who posted this sign on a telephone pole in the Berkeley hills;
Or who is swiping left on Eric Adams:
or what Deb's dream really is..
In the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, John Koenig coined the word "Sonder" to describe that moment of realization
"that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own..."
These small street oddities, encountered while living my daily life––on my way to work, or class, or strolling around with a coffee do something similar. They comfort me with knowing that I am surrounded by people who find life as absurd as I do, who look at reality and are filled with the desire to tweak its nose.