Being in New York City from September to December during the fall of the nightmarish year of 2020 was a lonely and surreal window of time.  Moving through the city during the Coronavirus Pandemic was an abstract and profoundly sad experience.  The harsh reality of it all being more impossible to justify or comprehend than any hypothetical work of apocalyptic fiction.  Except for it’s hospitals and morgues the entire city and its theaters, restaurants, streets and workplaces once teeming with life were in an tragic state of suspended animation.   Eerily quiet.  Vacant.  Abandon.  Where once there was nowhere to go without being swallowed up by a vibrant crowd of people, noise and humanity, Manhattan and the Boroughs were frozen in time under the Covid-19 Lockdown.   I’m hoping this photojournalistic exercise will in some small way communicate the tragic scale and paradoxical reality of this chapter in New York’s epic story.