One day, before the coronavirus pandemic, a river of pedestrians — half manic, half clueless — was feeding onto the escalator at the West Fourth Street subway station during rush hour. You stand on the right; you pass on the left. This is the choreography of everyday life.
I've been thinking a lot about choreography lately. Not the kind performed onstage, which we won't be seeing for the foreseeable future, but the choreography of space: How are we using our bodies to navigate a pandemic?