Forty Second Street, The Deuce In the late seventies and early eighties. It was more than a street. It was a universe, A raw, neon lit theater where every block told the story grimy, loud, alive. You didn't visit the Deuce, you survived it. Polaroid cameras snapped like time machines. Cats from Harlem, Bronx, Brooklyn Queens all came to flex, flick it up and leave proof. They were legends in the making. Leather bombers, ghazals, shell toes frozen forever in that instant flash behind them. Bruce Lee playing on a loop shaft. Superfly movies that taught us how to move, dress and fight back. Yeah, it was dangerous, but it was ours. A playground for rebels, a catwalk for the cool, A jungle where hip - hop sharpened it's t Backspin chroniclers would do diaries where the flicks were cheap, the fashion was flying, and the stores were priceless. Share, believe, inspire blacks be.