AA Bondy at Schubas in Chicago on November 10, 2008.

Boris at the Empty Bottle in Chicago on November 29, 2008.

Maybe it’s because you got the impression early on that they didn’t want you around. Maybe it’s because they never said it but you read it in their actions. Maybe this put you a little on edge for the next twenty or thirty years. Whether it was true or not doesn’t even matter. That’s how fucked up and flawed we really are. You know that now. But maybe you’ve known for some time and it’s made it hard to see too far past it. Maybe you’re sometimes so sad because happiness has always felt so fragile and constantly falling apart. Maybe you’re afraid that the warmth will shatter you. And maybe you’re right. But maybe that doesn’t justify the cold. Maybe the cold you feel all around you is the result of a choice you’ve made, and not something you’ve inherited from the Earth. Maybe the dividing lines you’ve drawn are signs of weakness, and not of strength. Maybe the isolation you’ve gravitated toward and cultivated has done you more harm than good. Maybe you’re still just a child running from the trees. Maybe your utilitarian ways are a testament to your sorry attention span. Maybe you’re embarrassed by your lack of knowledge and acumen and that’s the real reason you stay away. Maybe you’re lonelier than you think. Maybe that’s part of the problem. Maybe you’re sad because you’re lonely and you’re lonely because you’re afraid. Maybe you don’t want them around because you’re still so terrified that they don’t want you around, and maybe you just want to beat them to it. Maybe you’re just a coward. And maybe it tears you up a little when they call you brave. But maybe you just need to go for a walk.

London. Twenty-two Scotland Green. Standing behind his new front door in a small barbershop off Tottenham High Road, 89-year-old Aaron Biber sweeps up a pile of hair from where his floor tiles used to be. It is morning, unseasonably warm and quiet. The September sun creeps in through a fresh pane of shatterproof glass, and lights the tiny room. Two men pass through carrying painted-black pieces of wrought iron fence. The men are strong, but they struggle. Even divided into pieces, iron is very heavy, resistant to human force, effective.

It has been nearly two months since rioters smashed through Biber’s doors and windows and tore his 41-year-old shop to pieces, nearly two months since they finally stopped, and went away … Read more at The Morning News.

More at the London blog.