
...why did a schawarma vendor have to park his cart behind my building? Now, by mid-mornings on weekdays, the aroma of spiced grilled meat wafts through my window.
It smells good.
It is cruel.
Musings on Culture and Life in New York
I'll never forget Maxim's last words: "Bzzzt bzzzz zzzz zz bzzzzt," while its little red light flickered, then went out.| adopt your own virtual pet! |