If a young man with a nice camera says “I’m from the New Yorker,” you let him take your picture. Especially if you’re standing in Grand Central station reading a Bill Bryson book on your phone wasting some time.
I’m never a fan of photographs of myself, but hey, this one ain’t half bad.
Bee Walsh. Publishing at Harper's BAZAAR by day, Internet Coquette & Poetry Editor at "The Rain, Party, & Disaster Society" by night. 25 years old. Clit Relations Manager, Weirdly Impressive. Lover of the loudest music. Not for the faint of heart. | NYC