By Johna Till Johnson
Photos by Vladimir Brezina
April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.
—T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land
I’ll admit it: I used to hate Spring.
Why “admit”? Because from what I can tell, most people are thrilled by lengthening days, soft fragrant breezes, and the sight of new flowers pushing up through the fresh grass.
In New York, Springtime is especially noteworthy. Everyone takes to the parks. Lovers canoodle. Pets frolic. And we walk around with goofy smiles and say unexpected things to each other, like “Please,” and “Thank you” and “After you!”
So what’s not to love?
Vladimir Brezina (RIP) 
Johna Till Johnson
Wind Against Current 