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.
A Guy Walks Into 365 Bars…Again! Bar Number 49: Hoops Pub And Pizza
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*It’s time for our Friday lunch post and I usually have a special guest
along for the post. Well, I don’t have one this week, so let’s take a solo
ride ...
23 hours ago
