In Bay Ridge, lemons, 6 for one dollar on 3rd avenue. We sit on the pier and eat falafel and shish and spot things – the new World Trade Center building, the Statue of Liberty, the ferry chugging to Staten Island, Governor’s Island, probably. (Do you ever think about leaving? Yes, we talk about it all the time.) At almost midnight, the cafes remind me of Tel Aviv, long, shiny, everyone acting like it’s the middle of the day, because who cares, we’re awake, let’s be awake.