Three years later Madonna came to sublet my apartment on East 10th Streeet. The walls were as smooth as lumpy pancakes. The bathtub was in the kitchen and the WC had an overhead chain.
“I’ll think about it.”
I never heard from her, but she was in my apartment for ten minutes.
I bet she has no memory of that moment, but I remember everything, even though she wasn’t as cute as this photo.