Shevek (shevek) wrote,
Shevek
shevek

In New York itself on fifth avenue. The quantity of litter is both horrifying and disgusting. I hear French with a Haitian patois as I break into the sunlight on Avenue of the Americas.

The Hilton is another world, and I am suddenly uncomfortable. I preferred the street. The air in here smells as polished as the vast expanse of marble floor. I refuse the key to the mini bar, and the clerk jokingly warns me that I will miss out on the five-dollar water. The TV in the lift tells me about jesus as I find my way to my numbered, artificial-apple scented cubicle. Apples like this, I wouldn't eat.
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