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Before Covid, the Sunday line for the Pickle Restaurant stretched around the block. But health concerns and strict limits on how many patrons can be served at once, have taken their toll. Inside, the management have erected clear plastic dividers between the booths, but frankly, I’m not sure how much protection that provides, unless they’ve also been equally creative with the ventilating system.
It was a lifeless, gray day—the kind of day that prompts me to shoot in color instead of my usual black-and-white. I know, I know, some of the folks aren’t wearing masks, or they’re not wearing them correctly, but—hey—I'm just the photographer, so no nitpicking, please. The last group are waiting for the light to change, so they can cross the street. I half expected to see them take a bow, like actors at the end of a stage play.

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