Wednesday, September 8, 2010


Truly, I have no wish to have my palm read: I wouldn't want to know what anyone might find there, whether in life lines or love lines or money lines or whatever. But these hands are reaching forward in a delicate way, as though they are offering a sweetmeat to a rather apprehensive Shire horse. I don't know whether they are meant for palmist practice, or merely signify a trade, in the same way that a boot might indicate a cobbler. They're on 23rd St in NYC, just past the Chelsea Hotel - so who knows who might have dropped in for a reading in this rather shabby and ancient looking establishment.

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