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Lavay Smith: Miss Thing Talks Back

Lavay Smith
Lavay Smith
Lavay Smith
Lavay Smith
Lavay Smith

Rats. Why did there have to be rats?

There are few things in life that can kill the thrill of sharing a tiny umbrella with the heavenly not-so-tiny Lavay Smith as the two of you tipsily wander through New York City’s Bowery at 3 a.m. on a rainy Wednesday morning. (Or is it Tuesday night? Jesus, what day is this? And where’s my wallet?) But the scrum of vermin-slimy, skittery, sobering vermin-digging through some casually tossed garbage just a few feet away is seriously challenging my powers of fantasy.

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