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There are five trash cans, several intended for newspapers and magazines, but it seems all are used for regular trash. The sidewalk is littered with pieces of broken glass, a sign that someone has dropped their drink. The musty smell permeates through the air with no relief in sight. The interior of the bus station is bright and clean, a stark contrast to the outside. A young man barks at me for taking photos and shoves iced tea into my hand. Google+ 0 Pinterest 0 Linkedin email . “No photos allowed,” he says, then calls police.
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