On the second night I lived in Bay Ridge, I was woken up at 4 a.m. by the sound of foghorns. Despite the neighborhood’s name, I hadn’t quite connected the dots that I’d be living right next to one of the world’s busier shipping channels.

Thankfully it didn’t take long to get used to the sound. 12 years later, they’re a frequent and almost soothing sound.

Recognized by American Illustration.