Trymaine Lee
The New York Times
MICHAEL C. MARTIN sat in the back of a musty soul-food joint in Bushwick, Brooklyn, eyeballing two men in police uniforms who were arguing at a table by the front window. The younger man’s voice was angry and rising, hushed only by the growling of a train clawing its way across the elevated tracks outside.
Mr. Martin watched as the men carried their argument into the street, where it quickly escalated into a fistfight with body slams and bloodied knuckles. Passers-by gathered around the two men, some cheering and pumping their fists. [...]
di Trymaine Lee, articolo completo (11166 caratteri spazi inclusi) su The New York Times 10 Agosto 2008
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