At this point it had been nearly a week since I was on Rockaway. it was a week without work, spent mostly poking around the house and shooting scenes from the Manhattan Blackout (subject of a post to come).
The morning after the storm, Rockaway was in shock. People were just wandering around in awe of it all. There was only foot traffic, along with a scant few cars trying to get through the sand-duned obstacle course that the streets had become, and fire engines racing here and there.
Days later though, everything was buzzing. Generators, construction equipment, a parade of trash trucks and cars all over – people who came to clean up and help out filled the streets. Many were just wandering street to street looking for something, anything they could help out with.
The streets were now largely cleared of flooded out cars, though the damage to absolute everything was still obvious, everywhere you looked.
After a little while of looking around, it just started to feel morbid. Here were people who lost it all, trying to rebuild, and there I was, camera in hand.
I felt compelled to just get the hell out of the way.
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