I was already a few times in New York, mostly in Manhattan, every time I was speechless, too in love, but at the end has swallowed me the city, I was too big, too fast and full. People like ants, which hunt for high rents even higher buildings over, shiny briefcases, which beat at every step on bridesmaids knee, the buzz of air-conditioning and plaintive Blauchlichtsirenen. If at some point rain falls and blows someone in a black Tux Ray Charles on the saxophone at the edge of the road, it’s as New York must itself will pause, breathe, start. Then Hollywood with all its screen images like one of this shimmering rescue blankets over the sweaty asphalt lays down, as she say: it’s OK, you’ve not lost your magic, you’re here, it’s New York fucking city. Time to look at the skyline from the other side of the East River, best at night, to not pass the love. Hello Brooklyn, you saved our relationship.
Kent Avenue 475, Williamsburg, Virginia. The former Jewish Mazza factory with its ten floors and large old Windows, is located just a few minutes walk from the dockyard of the East River Ferry. The elevator brings us their on the eighth floor, the doorbell is to read in faded letters Bianca Cassady. The door to the Loft is hard, behind the garden of Eden is waiting, crammed with souvenirs from around the world, a spring winds its way on a thread from the towering ceiling, it smells of myrrh and Bryn, the new tenant in her dress and bare feet, stands before us the us with “Hi lovers!” and three Gin Tonic. It is so, the “Palace in the sky”.
Bianca Cassady – the name tells me something, I go past picture books, “full moon” for example, is on the bedside table “just kids”, all colorful woven blankets, dried flowers and salt crystals. On the rough walls, I discover handwritten sketches and scripts, weird drawings, then song lyrics. Bianca is Cocorosie. She left us a rainbow from water color there, “girls lost” is written about. In the background one of the endless mix tapes of chances with wolves running jazz and psychedelic, a bit earlier. The soundtrack to seven days Brooklyn roof top with vegetable garden.
Staying here must expect at some point in a flower dress on an old chair to find themselves without a laptop, but with pen and paper. What do I want, I am – to pose questions, while one observes the sky with, as it is slow at night, in the kitchen you will find herbs and Agave syrup, the time rotates slowly, timidly a few drops of water leak from the shower.
instead of out of breath to explore the city, you will remain here sometimes just in the apartment or on the roof. It meets the neighbors, artists, architects, musicians. And at some point you will forget that it will just be to visit. #Belongeverywhere gives us with Airbnb on the way – I know now what it means and come back. Preferably tomorrow.
live here: PALACE IN THE SKY.
Facilities: Three double beds, kitchen, bathroom, access to the roof top.
Airbnb thanks for seven days in heaven,!
Brooklyn, you suck glow in the dark.
Photos: BENJAMIN Ma stone
INSTAGRAM pictures: NIKEJANE & EEAZYP
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