“And I’m like, whatever.”

Just walked back from a stroll along the river, stopping for coffee and pastries on Broadway. The world whirls on, colourful, loud, overhead (military helicopters this morning), and underfood (the pigeons). We went to a play on 42nd Street last night, “The Flick” — it was good, a lament (in a way) for the loss of real films shown in independent houses. Tonight it’s a concert, and before that, a harbo(u)r cruise. (We like to do these in large cities by water — Paris, London, Prague — because you get a sense of the city that you don’t get trudging around.

So walking along Broadway, on our way back to the hotel, I saw a beautiful woman standing outside a nail salon, leaning on the building, in high-heeled sneakers, her hair done in a million tiny braids, saying loudly into her phone, “And I’m like, whatever.” And yes, I thought, yes.


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