It’s an accident, this bar. It opened in a place that saw a flux worthy of a cheap visual effect in a nineteen sixties space movie.
Carpenters to architects of the world’s financial infrastructure, getting recommendations on new porters from car porters whose band just broke up.
Some nights it seems like the answer to Rodney King’s impassioned, rhetorical plea, other nights it seems like Darwin was making stew after a gallon of absinthe.
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