Nicky Nodjoumi

"I am a painter. I was born in Iran. My work was too political so I came here. I went back for the revolution. It was too political for the new regime so I returned to the United States and stayed."

Cinematographer

On the hunt for locations for a commercial for an expensive Scotch whiskey in the not so expensive regions of Greenpoint. He is also an editor, yet in spite of the example of Our Lord, not a disk jockey.

Art Historian in Welder's glasses

"If you don't mind the green, they're great." "Where did you get them?" "Online... welder's equipment." "Actually I borrowed these from a friend and still have them." she said smiling. She told us she had never walked down West Street, Greenpoint before, and nor had we.

Caroline and Louis

It's always the same, you want to go one way and he the other.

Crossed feet in Cobble Hill Park

A good listener

She sat there enthralled, never interrupting or taking her eyes off him. We were too far away to hear what he was saying, and the lady in pink appeared to be too busy texting.

Best friends

"Are you sisters," I asked,
"No, best friends."

Resting lawyer

He wore large tinted glasses in gold wire frames and a sun burst tattoo on his right shoulder. Yet, for a photograph, I thought his face alone was the force.

Summer bliss

This person was not at all interested in what I was doing. Next to her sat the resting lawyer... picture above. I was putting up my tripod, asking him to move a little, changing lenses and introducing him to Caroline and the dog. She opened her eyes once but closed them again almost immediately. I was glad not to disturb her.

Straw hat and straw hair

The title says what it was that struck me about this couple. Also, they were patient while I fiddled with the settings on the camera and helpful in recommending places to eat in nearby Brooklyn Heights.

Flawless Brooklyn Heights

They'd lived in Brooklyn for 40 years... Where else?

A choice too great

The menu has more than a hundred items on it. The tender touch from the left hand of a friend is calming. Going out means you do not have to shop, cook or wash up. But... you have to decide where to go, drive there, park and choose from a menu that is too large. It can be a strain, worse than eating in. An old school buddy of Caroline's, Scott Kelly, once told me that the best meal he'd ever eaten at a restaurant was at a provincial airport in France. The menu consisted of one hors d'oeuvres, one main course and one desert. The relief was so great that he sank into his chair, downed the house wine and left a happy man.

Café Maya

Café Maya, which lay in a rundown plaza on the edge of Cold Spring, New York was an old diner with eight stools, eight tables, and a television set tuned to soccer from Europe. There was a small staff of devoted workers. Apart from the good cheap food, the reason you went there was Louis, the owner. He was irresistibly charming and his place became the place that made eating out a guaranteed pleasure. You brought your own bottle, but the lemonade always had a kick to it. Then it closed, just like that. We heard rumours, and they proved to be right. He opened a large place 5 miles up the road. A road house for commercial travelers, IBM on-their-way-uppers, and sundry dusty housewives and adulterers. We starved, and he made a fortune.

Juicy Bar proprietor

This place in Beacon, New York, came and went too. I do not know if the proprietor fared as well as Louis did from Café Maya.

Father of twelve

As I walked passed the house five or six people were sitting on the porch steps or wandering about in front of it. I asked this man if I could take a family group. He said yes and I began to arrange things. "Wait a minute, there's more inside." He shouts something which includes getting rid of the Dachshund puppy that was yapping and dancing about. Out came another six or so young people and in went the puppy. "How many children do you have?" I asked. "Twelve, the other two are in Florida. This is my brother-in-law," introducing me to a man in spectacles.

Family group

"It only gets worse," he replied to my question as to how things were in Newburgh. It heads once again the list of cities with the highest numbers of murders in New York State. And still no jobs to speak of.

Not her baby

In a family of eleven siblings you are likely to be brought up to look after anyone who needs you.
"She's not my baby," she pointed out when I asked her if I could take her with her baby.