TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER
an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
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11.15.03, saturday morning
Gloomy morning, gloomy woman. Upstairs in Apt. 401 lives a couple with a baby that cries and cries, a subscription to Bon Appetit and More, and a tendency to move the furniture at six am. The woman owns a hair salon; I often spy her clients, shower-capped and plastic-caped, wandering dazedly in the hall downstairs, inquiring Where's the bathroom?