Station Station

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Andrew Fedora

Our neighbor who should have lived in Paris in 1899, works at Cafe Montmartre, talks to himself, is Meara's everywhere boy, leaves his windows open so people can see him drink wine and play his instruments and read his used books, and has long brown hair that waves in the humidity, does no longer have that long hair. It is now short, and he looks sporting.

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