found via weheartit
The hotel stood on the corner of the street, at the edge of downtown between the ghetto and the department stores like an ironic icon of society. Dan was driving carefully then, and we were trying our best to get out of downtown without making eye contact with ragged strangers. Every two seconds, I found myself checking the locks, freezing when I could make out private conversations of pedestrians. I kept looking outside and we escaped the stories of Hilton, Macys and oversized parking lots. That's when we passed by the Warwick Hotel. It had long windows, balconies with long iron bars for a fence, semi-transparent window curtains, iconic columns and a lamp post at its entrance. I traced the silhouette, wishing I were inside. It was a perfect place to get lost and write.
