It's a kind of language, a cry.
When New York eats, it's full mouth, full gums, full teeth.
There is a kind of hurra food, an injunction.
We love when we play the game, show off his cards.
We expect this from New York, as we wish for a peaceful Kyoto, a paradoxical Berlin, a happy Rome.
Nothing then will distract us from this idea.
And in this, New York will do nothing to contradict us.
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The pandemic went through there, it tightened the pores.
The fragile fruits fall, the oldest sometimes give up.
What awaits us today is still there, close to the cliché.
Besides, isn't that what we hope for?
Katz's delicatessen (since 1888), on the Lower East Side, is expected to be as talkative as ever, thundering on the verge of obscenity with its overpowering pastrami sandwiches, the injunctions of orders, the roar of the customers.
Sally is not there to simulate a legendary orgasm ...
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