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I can feel the heat closing in, feel them out there making their moves, setting up their devil doll stool pigeons, crooning over my spoon and dropper I throw away at Washington Square Station, vault a turnstile and two flights down the iron stairs, catch an uptown A train… Young, good looking, crew cut Ivy League, advertising exec type fruit holds the door back for me. I am evidently his idea of a character. You know the type comes on with bar tenders and cab drivers, talking about right hooks and the Dodgers, call the counterman in Nedick’s by his first name. A real asshole.
— William S. Burroughs, from Naked Lunch (1959)

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Photograph “Busted Flat In Brighton Beach” (2009) by Amber Tides, courtesy of the artist.

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