Let there be light

I've been chipping away at the mystery of the blueish tint that's infused most of the photos I've taken with my new camera. It's mind-boggling what one can learn from an instruction manual.

I love my new(ish) apartment, and will be happy to show more if you'd like to see. In the meantime, I offer photos taken from the western-facing window in my bedroom. When I first moved in, there was nothing there, and "no plans for building!"

Cue jackhammers, my second month in the place. Not to mention construction workers so close I felt I should offer them coffee. Before, Kristine and I (and several others) were treated to amazing sunsets on the Hudson, and miniature games of soccer played in the field across the street in any weather.

We used to see this:

(That's Dan in front of the soccer field)

And now we have this:
Still, this is miles from the apartment I lived in for the five years preceding this one. That was a cave, a place where time stood still. I'd invite people for coffee and they'd stay for days. Permanent twilight. And for Louie and me, two sensitive souls who veer toward the melancholy, we need as much sunlight as we can find.

So here we are. View-blocking-new-building-that-will-have-individual-elevators-for-tenants'-cars notwithstanding, this is what we needed.

In other news, I'm working on a piece of fiction. Damn, it's hard!