Manhatta toilets

In London, when I was sad or frightened, I would go to this one toilet in a dark and abandoned street.



I would smoke cigarettes, listen to the water dripping on pipes. It was cold. Men would come and cruise, suck each other off.



Against all better judgement I would spend hours there and I felt so safe, so protected by myslf and my clothes, my eyes were my weapons, no one spoke to me and I was not compelled to speak.



I saw it all, and only occasionally partook.