Tuesday, August 23, 2011

A Twittanova of Metroplexing, West to East

The Magic Castle, plantation, heroin hostel, and now a rehabilitated house of illusions. Doogie Howser is the trapezy chairman of the board.

The spirit of beans cut a wide circle in the water, as we merrily toast farewell. A precipitous fall, cut bright by purple webs in the wake.

A lounge, terraced in the sky, great ivy trellises and flowing blue dresses. The hammock was easily the best part; the $20 beers, the worst.

The vintage, posh, and smokey floor - a platinum card caught briefly on snippets of conversation floated on great poise, unrelenting rhythm.

Fled the gracefully skirted fray by earliest train, a citrus rose crown on New London, and a stray carousel resident in blue South Station.
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