In the past two months, I have ventured farther than nine blocks from my front door exactly once. I’ve been lucky enough to work remotely. And, while friends and colleagues decamped for vacation properties or relatives’ homes, I have been stuck in my Brooklyn apartment. Except I haven’t felt stuck. As the fear and frustration of living in the global epicenter of the coronavirus pandemic settled over New York, a fragile source of joy emerged for me: my own neighborhood.

Source: Wall Street Journal May 07, 2020 23:26 UTC