I have always felt this mixture of sorrow and fascination with the birds captured in large halls after they accidentally flew in. There is one in Staten Island Ferry Hall flying in circles above my head in confusion as I’m sipping weak coffee and walking in circles myself, because I’m unable to sit still. Soon I’ll be on the ferry to Staten Island. The statue with the dictionary will be photographed a thousand times by the tourists on the ferry, and the skyscrapers in Manhattan will look like plastic toys. This is an almost daily commute for street artist Veng RWK, who bikes from South Ferry where he needs to, and frequently to Bushwick, which he has (temporarily) abandoned to seek refuge in the (relative) silence of Staten Island.