The Pleasure Garden by Rosanne Rabinowitz (an excerpt)

“I’m the mind of the old market, and much more. The distilled desires of dumpster divers and bondage queens meet within me. I’m the roots beneath the old Pleasure Gardens and I arise from breathless couplings on hidden paths above them while the band plays Handel. I’m the dust on the streets and the weeds growing in cracks. I’m mud oozing between your toes, the cry of birds fleeing from the reeds. I bring the scents of the marsh, the fumes of exhaust, a sprinkling of sweat and perfume.”

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