Diaries of a Primitive Man

Diaries of a Primitive Man

It’s a sunny October afternoon in Manhattan and the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art are bustling with visitors. Tourists pose for selfies against the museum’s facade; street vendors sell chopped-up hotdogs in a nest of French fries; and the sound of saxophone music drowns into the symphony of splashing water fountains and honking cars on Fifth Avenue. So many types of people; the only ones missing are the Lenape whose land was stolen so …