After our Saturday in Willamsburg we woke up with skin all sweaty. I’ve sure missed Daniel but I felt like punching him if he got too close to me in this heat haha. We got dressed and went down to the bodega on the corner to get some Arizona Iced Teas and wraps.Frida met up with us in the Maria Hernandez Park in Bushwick. There we watched dogs, talked about inappropriate jokes and just kept on sweating in this 33 degree heat.Frida and I were matching in our overalls. Her in her white shorts and me in my denim dress.
Once the wraps were finished we met up with Nicolas friend and thought it was about time to start the party. The boys walked us through Bushwicks deserted streets, all gritty and tagged. Walking around there almost feels like the city has been abandoned. And then all of a sudden there is a bar. In this case the Narrows which had a great back patio and bands like Bass Drum of Death and Ty Segall playing in the speakers. We ordered Coronas and whisky shots for $7 because it’s alright when you’re young and on holiday.Then this lovely, funny, and awful accident happened. We’re sitting down drinking and Frida put her hand down on the bench, right in a blackberry. She shouts ”Oh no! Watch out so for the blackberries!” and she gets up to go wash her hands when we see this. I DIED OF LAUGHTER. It was so evil but so so funny. Luckily her t-shirt was close to long enough and got to intern as a dress for the remnant of the day. ~fab~They took us around the corner to a daytime party called Tiki Disco for these electro loving guys. We had a few drinks in the shade, the air off the asphalt vibrating from the heat.Then the sky just broke open with a loud crack and it starting pouring down! Like a proper monsoon, drenching all of us. And all the drunk New Yorkers didn’t seem to mind a summer shower and kept on dancing to the sound of crackling thunder and screaming speakers. <3 <3 <3Our skin just got even stickier and everybody’s hair kept on dripping when we stood huddled under the big tents. When it stopped we walked up to King Noodle, the trippy asian restaurant where they serve drinks like volcanos. The air dried us up instantly and we continued the night barhopping around Bushwick, talking about photography and girlfriends and just nothing in particular. And we weren’t wearing anything but t-shirts and it still felt sweaty.