"""...what made a New Yorker a New Yorker: the ability to put up with anything—rats the size of cats, fucked-up subway cars that were less glamorous than a room at Rikers, the always-present humo of piss on the hottest days—and they all did it because that was Nueva fuckin' Yol, the city that felt alive and buzzing with energy. Whenever Angel saw the skyline at night, just after a fresh sunset, she'd think, I might be dying, but thank god I still got my eyes because is that not a sight to behold or what?"
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