I live in a small town full of Big City people. On paper, this sounds fantastic: the easy maneuverability of rural living, but among people with the same books on their shelves and the same records in their collections as me. Many “locals” lived on New York’s Lower East Side in the ‘80s when I did, or Los Angeles or San Francisco in the ‘90s when I did. Now they’re here, in a spontaneous retirement community for aging hipsters. My people.
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