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Franco’s People: Mostly Poor, Always Singular

The Art Scene
leong@lakevillejournal.com

During my early days in Greenwich Village, spring warmth was heralded by a man and his albino ball python: The snake, large enough to mesmerize the eye, coiled itself around the branches of a newly budded tree, sunning and only occasionally moving. Its owner, heavily tattooed before skin art was so ubiquitous, answered questions from fascinated — if terrified — spectators.

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