it’s june. new york city. the sun is ten times hotter beneath those reflecting metal buildings; atop those cracking sidewalks. the only breeze comes from bare open windows, their peeling sills sprinkled with dirt & overgrown spider plants.
you spend afternoons with your cat on a sun spotted mattress on the floor, covered in fading floral sheets, wearing nothing but your knickers. it’s too hot. you listen to lissy trullie’s six track ep on repeat, reciting every word offkey while you doodle in a pocket notebook.
you spend evenings on your flea market found bike, riding through traffic under the cooling sun in your favourite just bought but already dirty sophomore dress. you’re heading to duane reed to pick up prints, more disposable cameras, menthols & another tube of your favourite .99 red lipstick.
you spend nights barefoot, on lower east side rooftops decorated with twinkling string lights & your best friends. the air smells of smoke & charcoal. your first summer bbq. grilled tofu & eggplant. you watch the blazing sun disappear into the starry night & reappear, still awake, through heavy mascara smeared eyes; laughing with lipstick covered smiles into the haze, into another city morning.
A.
photos; my own screencaps : lissy trullie : boy boy, the arab parrot, my own bicycle photo taken with a disposable, my mate's flickr : flickr.com/photos/patricej, sophomore nyc lookbook : cass bird, the skullset, love bryan
