It was strange, magically strange: Union Square and 14th Street were so crowded, and then I took a left somewhere (Broadway? University?), I don’t remember, and the street was almost empty, and he was sitting there exactly like that, as if waiting for me to come and take his picture, on the crate, the skateboard tilted under one toe. I asked if I could take his picture, and he just nodded, almost solemnly. I thanked him, I told him my name, and asked his. “Lucas,” he said.