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Photographs by:
Nina Berman Page 5/9. |
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| And now that place is gone. And the prostitutes are gone. Dead, moved out, pushed aside, forced west, to the edges by the highways, | ||||||||||
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| under the tunnels, away from the lights, the crowds, the tourists, and the real money, which is now Times Square. | ||||||||||
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| Sometimes I still go there, but I feel nothing for the place. The sex is gone. The colors are gone. I can't seem to smell anything, and nothing shines. | ||||||||||
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