There’s a lot of wind. It blows away the sand in thick clouds and you can feel its grittiness between your teeth with every gust. Shadows bent over dragging black bags or pushing shopping carts filled with mysterious odds and ends.
It’s starting to get cold, very cold, and the power hasn’t been restored yet.
Nothing much happened in Astoria (Queens), where I had been staying for almost three weeks, except for a few broken branches.I was skeptical that something serious would happen, and, truth be told, I thought that the scaremongering surrounding Sandy’s arrival was over-hyped American sensationalism. I was wrong. Lives were lost, many lives were changed and just as many others were uprooted forever. Several areas along the east coast of the United States bear the marked signs of the devastation. This is how, aside any expectation I spent most of what was planned to be my “western roadtrip” in Rockaways, or rather, what was left of a once joyful neighborhood in New York.