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On a relatively desolate Manhattan street, the nearby Brooklyn and Manhattan Bridges arhythmically percuss with automobile and train traffic. The clanging of pots and pans trickles out of a rickety screen door, out from which Lee exits the kitchen to catch a breath of fresh air.

"There are a lot of stories in this building," he says. "It's the oldest surviving bar in New York," bending back and gesturing toward the second and third floor with his eyes. "It's a haunted building. Sometimes we hear thumping upstairs when no one's up there. I'm the one who has to go upstairs to check on it."

In the Fishing for Tales photo essay.

Also in the Pelts and Belts: Art and Function of the Uniform photo essay.

Also in the Contact Lens, Part 3 photo essay.