Someone was stabbed and killed last night on the Greenwich Village street where I lived until about a year ago.
Which reminds me that a Washington Square Park drug dealer named Ringo was stabbed and killed there shortly after I first arrived back in the mad bad late 1980s. That night, the dogs howled at the scent of blood. I wonder if they howled again last night. And I wonder what all the new million-dollar-condo dwellers nearby are thinking this morning. (image courtesy of Gothamist)