
Concrete jungle where something something. All photos by Mary Dorn.
You know you’re in Manhattan when the check arrives.
Living in the coolest place on earth, you find you get swallowed up in the hype, getting high on your own home-grown kombucha, as it were. But just across a river lies an island dubbed “The City that Never Sleeps.” The center of the world and home of pizza places named after a series of men named Ray; the place so important to the imagination of the world that Las Vegas has a casino themed after it. Even Egypt doesn’t get to claim the Luxor, and THAT’S A COUNTRY. What had I been taking for granted, living in my homemade duplex in a former warehouse, when famous dead guys like Jack Kerouac, O.Henry, and Lou Reed (he’s dead, right?) had been living less than 5 miles away, making the art that we’ve been stocking our cement block bookshelves with over here? (more…)
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