A few days ago I moved out of what colloquially (but quite consciously) became known as "The House of Boring" where I had lived for two full years. On our last day there I half-joked that I had a life before moving there, but I could not remember what it was, or maybe even didn't want to. Sentimentalities aside, I will miss almost everything about it because the last two years have been pretty life-changing, in a good way.

My ears perk up anytime I hear a story about valuable museum pieces being found in someone's dusty attic or basement, and today's story from the New York Times is especially noteworthy because it involves Weegee. Weegee, for the uninitiated, is Arthur Fellig, an American photojournalist who worked mainly in New York City in the first half of the 20th century. His work is gritty, distinctly urban, and paints a picture of a frequently idealized time that is every bit as ugly as anything you might read in the papers today.