Backyard

I like peering into courtyards and enclosed spaces wherever I am, as not infrequently you are treated to a small verdant tranquil space, a tiny paradise behind all the bluff of brick and façade. I never got to see a proper hutong in China (I know there are tours but I wouldn't really want to go on one)--it always felt too obtrusive to go beyond the entryway, which anyway was usually cluttered with belongings, bikes, whatever. I always imagined that in the interior of those long blocks of buildings in European cities there were lovely enclosed courtyards.

NYC has some of these spaces, but this is obviously not one. This is out our back window facing east where you can see the tiny balconies where people may sit on warm days, maybe try to grow something (lord knows we tried), gape into the fishbowl, and smell cooking from Blue Hill, a fancy restaurant responsible for those two long venting pipes (and for a period, lots of rats). Not exactly a glamorous sight. Though Obama did eat here one evening about two years ago, causing a complete shutdown of our street, and lots of Secret Service milling about, even telling us (politely) to shut our windows. I didn't see Obama but I think I saw Michelle's leg. I think. Unless Secret Service wear stockings.