there is a low, guttural call in the pit of my stomach.
it is the desire to spend a night in a basement bar dancing to nothing but bob marley (or any music that came out of paris in the 1960's).
to leave the bar only when forced and wander the streets of lower manhattan in search of breakfast.
this is entirely doable, non?
who's in?
photo via.
as long as i live in manhattan, i should:
in NYC