NYFC
Words and images by Zack Schwartz
Eighteenth Street is jagged. It’s not just the potholes; the pavement is rough like komodo dragon hide, daring you to run your Dove soft skin over it. Fresh mozzarella on a cheese grater at Famous Ray’s. I look down and see broken glass, a crushed rat, hard bits of indiscernible dirty trinkets pulverized beneath the churn of New York City.