When we drive underneath the bridge, and the buses breaks piss free. Return is to bleak normality. A place I don’t want to be seen. A place with no more coins than kiss. Now my tap has sprung a leak. I haven’t found where the cool kids hang. Yet I see them there, every week? A photographic series by Marc A. Shelly.
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Editor Nasty2024-11-12 16:10:332024-11-16 11:49:46Parks and alleys












