I admit, I have fallen for the park that was once the playground of the world. Is it because the Cyclone is made entirely of wood and not steel? Or is it the wistfulness one feels on a cold weekday in spring where the only people around are the homeless seeking shelter under the boardwalk and a handful of Russians walking the vast beach? Maybe because, in some ways, it’s a haven for those who don’t want to conform to today’s way of life. Or maybe it’s because I know that everything that is Coney Island now won’t be there in a year. Every picture I have taken and will take is my way of preserving a place that has managed to shrug off change.
My friend Jessica recently reminded me of a photo I have from our bitchin’ trip to London a few years back. Who knows what we’re looking at here but it’s definitely not the camera which is pointed at our pod on the London Eye. So we paid a few bucks for the cheesy tourist photo, but for me, it was worth every euro.