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Queens has layers. Stand on the AirTrain platform at Jamaica and you might believe the borough’s contradictions first class seats on virgin fly earlier like tailwinds. Taxi horns and halal grills. Cargo pallets and couture luggage. People expecting a cousin from Guyana, a startup founder with a backpack, a violinist carrying a battered case. Then there’s the quiet that sits behind a sliding glass door in Terminal four, in