The other American dream:
Sun; music; children on streets begging for your salad and the cops who aren't ok with that; the middle aged in campy printed tees; two moms and their small daughter; ponytailed men in olive green with backpacks and graham greene novels; a twelve year old in a fedora, capri jeans and a fixed gear bike; a place almost european in its refusal to be die, to be sliced up and auctioned off to the lowest bidder.
The barristas are beautiful; the person making your salad has a BA in film studies and a metal band. Everyone has the Right pair of jeans. A "Barack and Roll" t-shirt might get you laid.
When New York wasn't looking, buttoning up its shirt and feeling bad about itself, the leftest of coasts was growing a beard and taking off its pants.
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