Someone went to a great deal of trouble to paste a huge collage of posters — probably four feet high by six feet long — behind the metal grating that separated a Greenwich Village townhouse from the street. I'm not sure who the personalities are; the man saluting seems to be either Bob Dylan or James Dean, but you're free to imagine anyone you want. The juxtaposition of the metal grating made it look like they were imprisoned behind the bars of ajail cell; it seemed fitting for the time.

I bought my little Yashica camera in early May, just as the trees and flowers were beginning to bloom in New York City. I happily snapped pictures of everything I could find; this was representative of them all. I can't remember exactly where it was taken — probably somewhere in the vicinity of Bleecker and Christopher Streets in the west Village.

Washington Square on a weekend afternoon in the early spring, before the city fathers decided to turn on the water sprinkler. At any given time, there was a good-sized crowd of people chatting with their friends, smoking a joint, complaining about the inequities of mankind, or just enjoying the balmy weather. I distinctly remember that the fellow in the middle of the picture was carrying on an eloquent debate with God about something ... but I can't remember what it was. He probably can't either ...

A moment before I took this picture, the purple-trousered fellow had been carrying on an animated discussion with his friend, as both of them shared a friendly bottle of Ripple. Then I heard him say to his friend, "I think I'll just rest for a moment ... " and that was the end of the conversation. His comrade didn't seem too upset ...

This was shot in September or October of 1969, during a protest rally against the Vietnam War. I don't remember who the speaker was, but his words made this young woman shudder quietly and hang her head ... it occurred to me at the time that perhaps she was thinking about a brother or a loved one who was already over there, while she and the rest of the crowd enjoyed the luxury of complaining about the injustice of it all ...

There was a young fellow singing quietly with his guitar and his harmonica in Washington Square one weekend, so quietly that you had to strain to hear his words. This young woman was so intent on listening to his song that I stood no more than two feet away when I snapped this picture ... and she never noticed.

Another weekend, another rally, another set of speeches and songs and earnest people listening to it all. I have no idea who these three were — but while they stood tightly knotted together a moment before I took the picture, something the speaker said hit them with a jolt, and they started moving in separate directions, each driven separately by whatever they heard.

Something about people with an elegant head of frizzy hair always makes me want to pour a bucket of water on their head. I don't know why — it's not out of anger or hostility, but perhaps just the curiosity about what they would look like if all that hair was just a wet, matted layer on their heads. Anyway, this fellow obviously had no idea that I was thinking such evil thoughts while I took his picture ...

Almost any man alive can knows this fantasy, and the illusions and fantasies that go with it: in the distance, you see a strikingly beautiful woman from the rear. Often, you can't see anything but her hair; sometimes, as with this picture, you catch part of the profile of a face — enough to confirm that she really is a stunning beauty. On the rare occasions that you meet her, and/or see her from the front, and/or hear her speak, the illusion is shattered: she has an IQ of a parakeet, or a Brooklyn accent so thick you could slice it, or a personality that would make Genghis Khan flee in terror. Sometimes the best thing is to maintain the illusion, and not spoil it with reality; that's what I chose to do with this photo. Even if the illusion WAS reality in 1969, she's now a 50-something grandmother, and she for all I know, she weighs 300 pounds and is wanted for bank robberies in three states ...

It's nice to see people who are actually listening to the music they hear in public places, and enjoying every word of it. This, too, was photographed in Washington Square in the fall of 1969, late in the afternoon as the shadows lengthened and the sun cast a mellow golden glow across everyone ...

When I wasn't poking around Washington Square or other parts of "central" Greenwich Village, I sometimes wandered over to the docks along the Hudson River, underneath what was then still an elevated highway. I have to be honest and admit that this is not an "honest" picture; I had attached an orange filter to my camera lens to create a look and feel that actually DID occur from time to time — but never when I had my camera with me.