From Issue 16: The Empty City

Douglas Cole In the plaza on Howard Street you’ll find the unlikely fountain prohibited by iron rails beneath a walkway encased in bronze glass and surrounded by red – brick would – be windows if the concept made it through the financing, and tucked up in there like an afterthought is Benjamin’s Café with one woman serving through the grim afternoon, her face a relief map of untreated tumors. West on Main Lincoln stands a mute copper witness to the convergence of afternoon drivers , an d further west find the Shrine Auditorium with soot black colonnades of Corinthian dolor…

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