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On the 7 train
A man who looked like an older, relatively unkempt Neil Patrick Harris took a digital camera from the front pocket of his ripped jeans and snapped a flash photo of the half-empty late-night car. He was covered in fine dust, from buttons-missing corduroy shirt to loosely laced short boots. Not your standard tourist. So why...?
On the Q this morning I ran into my supervisors of last summer, of ballet camp times. Turns out they live ten blocks from me. How awesome is that?