When the City’s Lights Go Off
It was 10 p.m. on a Friday, the rain had stopped, and I was standing in the middle of a narrow cobblestone lane in Soho, clutching a battered coat. mystake.
It was 10 p.m. on a Friday, the rain had stopped, and I was standing in the middle of a narrow cobblestone lane in Soho, clutching a battered coat. mystake.