In Cannaregio, at the Rio Terà Frutariol and Rio Terrà Santi Apostol.
At the vaporetto stop for San Giorgio Maggiore.
An experiment in Lightroom. Guidecca, from San Giorgio Maggiore. I like the almost charcoal drawing quality.
From the campanile of San Giorgio Maggiore.
“Mist” — an installation at San Giorgio Maggiore by Jaume Plensa for the Biennale.
“The heart is not for sale.” Graffito on the Rialto Market.
On the Fondamenta Ormesini. Taken from across the Rio della Misericordia from a seat in the Ghimel Garden restaurant, in the Ghetto.
At the Campo dei Gesuiti, Venexia.
At the Wandering Goose, Seattle.
The origins of this dish go back to the California Gold Rush. Placerville, a town in the Sierra foothills, was also known as Hangtown. A gentleman, flush with gold, came in to a restaurant and allegedly said, “Give me the most expensive thing you have!”
The result was this: Oysters, pork belly, soft-boiled eggs, all on top of a bed of potatoes. At the time, it was the eggs that were regarded as the true extravagance.
In the Yau Ma Tei neighbourhood of Hong Kong.
Not that I ever called him that to his face. But his jaunty swagger, bullet shaped head, and rough-but-hilarious talk made the parallel inevitable. He was the clear king of his domain, a street restaurant in the Temple Street Night Market. Yau Ma Tei, Hong Kong.
In the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, UK.
Michelangelo’s Madonna, in the Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk (Church of Our Lady) in Bruges.
At Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk. I love the conspiratorial look of the Angel.
In France, from the train.
In the Archaeology building, at Kildare St.
While we were eating at the Yemen Cafe in Brooklyn, they received a delivery from their halal butcher. I started making a picture or two, and this fellow noticed me. I love his pride.
George, at Pop’s Diner in Flushing.
Taken from the Empire State Building.