The corner (411) has the good restaurant, Le Joyeux Coq, the white neon and aluminum Modern restaurant, the pink, orange, and beige of a Dunkin' Donuts, and a thirties Art Deco masonry office building refurbished into lofts.
A gallery: Fidelity Shoe Repair: a yoghurt ice cream shop: a pizza joint with orange banquettes: the exhausted cement of a parking garage: an Indian restaurant.
And on the second and third floors over Le Coq,
Angel's brothel.
When I pass by, I look up from the street, and when the windows to the waiting room are open, the pink curtains sometimes lift and float out on the breeze.
It's cool, so those windows are closed; but tonight another window lights yellow: The short-haired, grandmotherly mama-san lifts a white square lid: to a top-loading washer? She moves to a counter: A taller girl joins her, her jaunty black crest gathered up in a spangly clip. They put their two heads together, and the mama-san lifts a round lid: Testing the rice in its cooker?
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>> posted by John Psmyth
• 8/09/2004 07:15:00 PM
•
1 comments
1 Comments:
Everyone is the same really. We all have the same basic needs in the end, and everyone is surviving the best they know how. I don't know why this post made me feel that way, but it did.
