The neon glow of the shop windows reflects off my Lycra leggings, but even this bodacious outfit can’t distract me from the price of gas creeping past a dollar-nineteen. I pass a group of kids twisting Rubik’s Cubes under the shadow of a *Friday the 13th* poster, their laughter cutting through my dread that these skyrocketing rents will soon price every artist out of the city.
The headlines about a new performing arts center feel like a pipe dream when a simple loaf of bread costs fifty cents. I tug at my oversized shoulder pads and quicken my pace, squinting at the flickering streetlamps while the synth-heavy beat of "Call Me" echoes from a passing car.
Memories from that day
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The Headlines
Hartford's Boom Puts Arts Groups In Housing Bind; Center Is Suggested For Performing Arts