Outside the main entrance to the 42nd St subway, a guy throws an empty pistachio bag into the wind, where it flutters, and lingers, and eventually hits a police horse in the mouth. I look around for someone else who might have noticed—but nobody has, so I glance at the horse. It snorts at me as if it’s saying ‘Did you see that asshole let that pistachio wrapper fly free until it hit me right in the face?’ and I snort back at it, light a cigarette, and wonder if sharing that moment with a horse means that horses are people too, or maybe, I’m less of a human being than I thought.
image: Aaron Burch
