There’s something about this article and slideshow of Jill Freedman’s work that seems unspeakably sad to me.  I mean, these are beautiful photographs.  The subjects have so much dignity.  To come back to New York and cry at the loss of the grittiness – well, I understand that, looking at these pictures, but it’s also sad, because to me vast change is as much a piece of New York as any one moment in its history.  But maybe if I’d been there then, I’d feel differently.


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