Photo by Taylor Bryant

The Meatpacking District

Flesh finds its way

Cubes of meat sweat and glisten on the chopping board. Muscular fingers portion and parcel the meat. The flesh finds its way to the warmth of a home. This repeats until only the butcher remains.

The disc jockey drops a beat. The percussion is persuasive, it moves people. Pulses rise up to a crescendo. Egos get lost in the labyrinth of sound. The flesh finds its way to the warmth of a home.

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