Walking alone through the city at night makes you think. The starving people of New York make Africa more beautiful and pleasant. Small plates and cute foods at overpriced restaurants make me stare at these fat pigs and disgusting people, both to blame for the smell of Manhattan. I've been all over, and yet to find the great part of this exciting godforsaken place. Where could it be? I found beauty, but I found ugly too, no great part yet, but my face is hardening from the lack of expression and mirrored look of horror and hidden shame on these poor bastards mugs.
How could there be such a mix? One part salt and ninety parts water, the rest is yellow 5 and MSG.
What fraction of myself have I become amongst this wretched nugget of wonder? What multiplication did I dismiss, from the sheer inability to sit still?
Forever and ever, no one seems to be willing to admit it, that these walkways are going in circles. I noticed, but no one here seems ready to listen. Deaf hippies and daft onlookers afraid to change the world. Whoever perpetuated this madness clearly isn't from here.
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