For us, New York City is a landscape of overlapping neighborhoods. Residents and tourists alike can feel like they are traveling across continents by simply turning a corner. In Lower Manhattan while walking through Little Italy on Grand Street and looking for a dinner spot, a shop window caught Joe’s eye. It was filled with the bodies of roasted birds in neat rows. After he snapped a photo or two, we turned down Mott Street and found ourselves in the middle of a lively Chinese market. Both sides of the street were lined with storefronts using sidewalk displays to entice customers. Joe weaved in and out of women pulling shopping baskets or loaded down with plastic bags as they moved from stall to stall looking over fish, vegetable, spice, and fruit options. To avoid the foot traffic, I stepped between two parked cars. Standing there I overheard two women negotiating the price of possibly a purse. At one store we watched shoppers flock to a Bok choy bin when the price suddenly dropped. The per pound or per item prices were hand lettered onto scraps of cardboard, but not named. It was a local market street. A slice of life. In Joe’s word’s, “A find.”