When Michael Jackson died, I was watching a movie at the Brooklyn Academy of Music. My friend and I both had no idea what happened, until we left the theater and went to a bodega. Michael Jackson played on the speakers. We walked into the Greene Grape, a gourmet grocery store. Michael Jackson was also playing on the speakers. We asked the butcher, did anything happen? And he said, yes, Michael Jackson died. Once I knew that it was like the whole world flowered — I heard Michael Jackson’s music streaming out of car stereos, out of bars, out of half-open windows, like everyone was in mourning.
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