by Tracy Lyall Songs of 70s rock stars are fading, with old albums—vinyl records in colorful covers stacked on top of each other, thirty, forty at a time—lying dormant in a thrift-store window display. The roller rink is closed down, wooden floors scratched by skate wheels, molding and mildewing. The…
By Eric Erickson I took pictures of the snowfall down Tenth Avenue. There was something more magnetic about the stills than of the reality. Snow falling, when you are watching it, starts out serene and lovely, then descends into a sort of foreboding, before finally leading to a completely unnerving…