Moonlit Missives: Westside
Just as an idyllic landscape metamorphoses with the passing of the seasons, some of our most familiar haunts take on new character and exoticism in deepest night. For this reason among others, Bwog, specifically intrepid philosopher of the darkness Diana Clarke, never sleeps. Tonight, ponder Westside Market in all its fluorescence.
Its lights are the beacon that cuts through your drunken haze, that points you north when you stumble out of the subway. You weave around the teetering boxes of lettuce and bananas, maybe trying to convince yourself that one night without Roti Roll or Koronet will do you good, maybe about to buy an entire apple pie because it costs less than the last cocktail you ordered. And at this hour, no matter how virtuous you’re feeling, that pie is probably the best option. The only fruit left is bruised. There are no cheese samples to soothingly coat your sloshy stomach with fatty lactose, and the empty plastic bowls and useless toothpicks only taunt. The hot food trays are empty and the sandwich bar is closed; you have too much drunk pride for a prepackaged one that’s been marinating in its own juices all day—right? Why not get a cup of coffee and round off the late-night diner experience on the go? What’s too weak in the daytime has just enough caffeine to sober you up.
Tags: BWOG NEVER SLEEPS, moonlit missives, questionable decisions, westside, westside market
29 January 2012 @ 10:07 PM · 7 comments










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