There is a special poignancy to abandoned furniture alone at night, empty and void of life in the street light. This love seat with its misshapen pillow is still full of life, void of cat scratches, coffee stains, and the bruises of time and existence that afflict much of the discarded furniture we see on the sidewalks of New York City.
Perhaps there is a COVID-19 story behind this lonely love seat. Someone who fell ill, or worse. Or a couple strained to the point of breaking by the demands of social isolation and confined living. Or maybe someone who moved into the City and decided, like this love seat, it simply wasn’t a good fit for them.
But there is still life in this love seat in the street light. If only someone would give it a chance. Yet, with each passing night, and each creeping inch of the evening shadow, the odds of finding a home are diminished. Time passes in the light and shadows, just like it does for people — who feel equally exposed and barren when the sun goes down behind the buildings that others live in.