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COPYRIGHT 2003 All rights reserved. Reproduced by permission of The Condé Nast Publications Inc.
AT TEA
On a recent sunny Friday afternoon, Yoko Ono was sipping an iced coffee at La Lanterna di Vittorio, one of the less touristy caf?s in Greenwich Village, and reflecting on life at the age of seventy. She wore black jeans, black su?de shoes, a black knit top, and a black blazer; the rectangular lenses of her glasses were tinted green, and her black hair was short, with mink-colored highlights. She didn't look seventy. She had with her some buttons and posters that said "Imagine Peace"on them--black letters, white background--as well as a copy of some thoughts on world peace which she had written on...
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