I used to run away to New York from Baltimore all the time. I would get on the Greyhound bus and tell my parents I was going to some sorority weekend… I’d even make up fake permission slips, come to New York, and just ask people on the street if I could stay with them and go see midnight movies.
If I’m seeing a three-hour foreign film, I don’t want to watch it in a bed.
On airplanes, strangers confide in me the most deepest, darkest secrets. And I think they think I’ll understand. And I generally do understand.
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