One of the strangest New York City visions I ever witnessed, pre-pandemic times, was on the eve of one 4th of July.
My husband and I stopped by a Midtown East masjid to pray Maghrib. When we walked out, we could hear fireworks, but we couldn’t see them. Instead, we could see crowds of New Yorkers and tourists run toward the East River hoping to catch the show. When I looked eastward, I saw nothing but sky filled with smoke.
And I thought, how strange it is to witness human beings run toward smoke and fire and the sound of explosions—rather than run away.
The thought made me catch my breath.