In just weeks, the city that never sleeps has turned into a ghost town, where sirens scream through empty canyons and there are trucks of bodies in suburban streets.
The streets of Dumbo in the Brooklyn borough of New York, where Anne Summers lives, are empty. Bloomberg
It is almost impossible to believe I have lived through this, to have been in this place at this time, witness to what is arguably the most profound tragedy ever to befall New York City.
In a matter of weeks, this city of Broadway, great museums and the endless engagement on the streets that make it so unique, has turned into a ghost of itself. Sirens scream endlessly through empty canyons, there’s a field hospital in Central Park and refrigerated trucks full of bodies in suburban streets remake a landscape of death in a city that once prided itself on the fact it never slept. What the September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks and Hurricane Sandy failed to do, the vengeful coronavirus has achieved, bringing the Big Apple to its knees.
