A whole bunch of little universes coexist in Brooklyn, as a smaller scale of Manhattan, quieter, less expensive, less well served by public transport necessarily.
Reminds me of the 20th arrondissement.
Everybody is found, the neighborhood looks like all of us. The human heart is.
And it was even more blatant.
Brooklyn is an oven. The street has become the gathering of all. Loubbavitchs, Latinos, blacks and ailments, we are all equal before the heat.smells mingle between stench, barbecue and divine fragrance of flowers.
Radio stations play the reggae, salsa, hip hop, rock.
Ca laughs. It screams. Ca debate about everything and nothing. And
motors of air conditioning and the singing of crickets blend with that little mess sound.
It's as if everyone had a place here.
The wind has finished drying my skin clammy.
It is midnight.
I think I'm feeling good. I've never wanted to leave.
I think I like Brooklyn and Brooklyn loves me ...
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