Sunday, October 21, 2012


I have a slight infatuation with diners.  Vinyl booths, jukeboxes, and laminated menus.  A place where you can go for a cup of strong black coffee and a slice of pie with real whipped cream.  The kind of place where you can sit alone for hours with your thoughts and your newspaper.   Diners like that are a dying breed which is why I was so surprised when I found one randomly on the side of the road in the Catskills.  

Something about the old-schoolness of it is hauntingly beautiful.  

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