Hardcore and slam dancing, blue Mohawks, combat boots with mini-skirts and ripped t-shirts, black leather motorcycle jackets with safety pins and bike chains, spiked collars and heroin; Bowery and Thompson Square, St. Marks Place and Avenue A; abandoned buildings and bodegas, punk squatters and Nuyoricans, pre tenants rights and gentrification; pre AIDS, post coming out and shooting up.

2nd and 2nd, black and white tiles leading to the elevator; a one bedroom apartment on the sixth floor, “We Three” on the turntable, pounding the silence, filling the space, expectant and let down, waiting for Craig, who just couldn’t wait, we two, you two, and me, before descending into the East Village night.