The wife beater clad teen yells obscenities at me. We’re standing on South Ave, he’s just approached me and asked to bum a cigarette. I tell him I don’t have one, after asking him to repeat what he said.
“It’s because you’re stuck up!” he finishes, walking away.
It’s nice to be home.
I walked through South Wedge, a neighborhood south of Rochester earlier today to explore a few murals I saw whilst driving by. I visited The Hedonist for cream cheese and fig ice cream, wandered around Little Button Craft & Press, and demanded to know where the tattoo clad man at thread got his Bloody Mary.
