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| After Wayne Thiebaud |
On one wearying and windy freezing day in downtown Brooklyn, when I was in town on some business I'd rather avoid (forever), I took comfort in the cheery pleasure that this diner's dessert carousel promised me after lunch. I didn't have the stomach to partake in it at the time, but part of me wanted order a slice of each beautiful, friendly, puffy pastry that swirled by, for me to enjoy at some later date during happier times, preferably while warm and safe at home over a nice cup of tea.
