Purses, dude, purses.

This guy freaks me out. He carries a sign, chain smokes, exposes his tummy and tries to lure you to the pizza joint.
My fear of him has nothing to do with that magenta oval that surrounds him.

A blurry close up of scary-man.

I got bike stuff for Toby.

The Moma store. Dine, chat and spend hundreds of dollars on miniature chairs.