Magazine Skin. Matthew Licht

Jilly and I used to go for walks around the neighborhood after dinner. We lived near Times Square, back in the days when West 46th Street still boasted the highest murder rate in town. One evening, on the way up 9th Avenue to watch show-off Broadway dancers in their fishbowl rehearsal studio, we passed a 1970s aircraft carrier-style station wagon, more crashed than parked. The motor was running. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166     A chubby balding Chinese man sat slumped at the wheel.…