Shell Fischer, a writer who lives in Park Slope, has recently given up her bicycle.
If youve walked along the southeast corner of Flatbush and 7th Avenues recently, you may have noticed what seems like a new mural bolted to a brick building there, and, if youve been in the neighborhood long enough, experienced a sense of déjà vu. It could be youve seen the mural before, years ago. Or perhaps, if you look closer, you recognize yourself amongst the photographs of people looking at that same wall, or passing by it.
Because I am not family, I am not allowed to know what happened to a man I saw Oct. 14 in Park Slope, lying in a pool of his own blood after a car had crashed into his bicycle on 6th Avenue, near Lincoln Place. I spent the entire morning searching the internet, calling local newspapers, posting a question on a blog.
On the day before Easter, they arrived quietly in Fort Greene Park, pushing a heavy granny cart up a steep hill before settling under a huge European beech, choosing a spot just above the tents of the farmers market. Shouts from a soccer game mingled with the laughter of children in a nearby playground.