I used to live on Noble Street, between Franklin and Manhattan, and each Monday morning, without fail, I had to wipe off my shoes as they tracked sundry papers down the block. The papers looked like they were torn out of a book, usually something informational like a religious text or TV guide.
Now, I’m sure we all have random papers in our weekly recycling bin. But I need to stress to those who have yet to experience this phenomenon with their own eyes the SHEER VOLUME of papers floating down the street. It looks like the work of someone with an enormous collection of old books who spends their weekend tearing apart pages before scattering them in the wind.
Is it possible that someone’s recycling has just gotten away from them and the wind carried it away? Sure, it’s possible. But I would love to know the purpose of the pages in the first place. A weird fetish? Leftovers that didn’t make the cut from a paper maché project?