10 newyork| march30–april12, 20201
BY ANDREW SULLIVAN
Slow Down
it’s quite possible that by the end of all this, almost every Ameri-can will know of someone who has died. A relative, a friend, an old high-schoolclassmate ... the names will pop up and migrate through Facebook as the weeksgo by, and in a year’s time, Facebook will duly remind you of the grief or shockyou experienced. The names of the sick will appear to be randomly selected—theones you expected and the ones you really didn’t, the famous and the obscure,the vile and the virtuous. And you will feel the same pang of shock each timesomeone you know turns out to have fallen ill. ¶ You’ll wake up each morningand check to see if you have a persistent cough, or a headache, or a tightness inthe lungs. This is plague living: witnessing the sickness and death of others;knowing that you too could be next, even as you feel fine. The distancing thingswe ref lexively do—“Oh, well, he was a smoker”; “She wasdi abetic, you know”; “They were in Italy in Februar y”—becomea little bit harder as time goes by, and the numbers mount, andth e randomness of it all sinks in. No, this is not under control.And no, we are not in control. Because we never are.These photographs
were all taken Friday,
March 20, from the
photographer’s balcony
and rooftop in Bushwick,
two days before the city
went into full shutdown.Photographs by Jeremy Cohen