Some display of amazing craftsmanship courtesy of Mr J.Lethem

The elongated rectangular grid of the streets, these rows of narrow houses,seen from above, at dusk in late october: imagine the perspective of a flying man. What sense would he make of the figures below, a white woman with her black hair whirling as she struck with the flat of her hand at the shoulders and back of a black teenager on the corner of Nevins and Bergen? Is this a mugging? Should he swoop down, intervene?
Who does this flying man think he is anyway-Batman? Blackman?
The streets always make room for two or three figures alone in struggle, as in a forest, unheard. The stoops lean away from the street, the distance between row houses widens to a mute canyon. Our lone figure above flies on needing a drink more than anything, and the woman's beating of the boy continues.