The Geometry of a Ghost
(New York Modernist Style) I remember the way the light used to die in the basement of the 4th Street Community Center. It didn't just fade; it retreated, pulling back from the corners of the room until we were all huddled in a small, yellow circle of lamplight, like moths around a dying star. Mr. Halloway was at the center of that circle. For the first few months, he was just a man with a loud...
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