The few remaining old buildings in the garment district are surrounded by glossy ice towers where clothes are only worn, not made. Very little life appears in those sleek cliffs. But as the evening blooms, so do the lights in this window. I don't know what is going on in there but it feels as familiar as the room that held Florence's world.
What I Did Over My Winter Break. (I’m Back…)
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*Okay, I’m back with a quickety-blickety blog today, then a big
announcement tomorrow and back to daily postings on Monday!*
*I decided to spend Christm...
9 hours ago
