Imagine, it’s Sunday evening. It’s miserably hot, the trains aren’t running properly, you seek refuge in a cab to head back to Brooklyn. As you’re crossing over the BK Bridge, the sun is setting, the windows are down, the breeze is all around you, you’re finally feeling human again, and then the cabby puts on this song. In moments like that, where everything is perfect, and you can’t get the grin off your face… you know you are exactly where you belong.
“New York summer is a love affair between a person and a weather pattern; like all love affairs, it ends in heartbreak. But how do you live without it?”—Gary Shteyngart, “My First (Nonmechanical) Chicken” (via daniper)