Last night, walking home from U st, touched suddenly by an urge to feel more air on my body, I took off my shirt. It was an odd feeling to revisit after all these years of being shirted in summer, how the still, warm, wet air settles on skin, and you feel the little changes in it as you move; how being shirtless under city street lights now seems juvenile, almost whimsical, liberated, plugged-in, and something else, darker, that I can’t quite describe. It reminded me of those long summer evenings in Anacostia, kickin it with the neighbors, no worries at all, even as the ghetto hummed with its slow, low, desperate, dangerous intensity.
Natalie Hopkinson, “Farewell to Chocolate City”
Hits the same notes as my piece, “The Souls of DC Folk” from a couple months back.
(Source: The New York Times)