You Either Are Or You Aren’t. Brooklyn.
Sometimes he stands outside his storefront on Graham Ave. manning his permanent sidewalk junkyard him adorned in his ripped white t-shirt radio blaring fist knocking in rhythm on a stringless guitar as if jamming along to the song.
This guy is CONSTANTLY stealing our shopping carts. AND if he is indeed the owner of that house on Graham Ave, then this site is dedicated to him.
(Sidenote; It is interesting how tumblr can sort of be like a community message board at times)
This guy sat me in an armchair in his store/home and made my boyfriend sing an Italian love song to me. He whispered the lyrics — in Italian — to Dustin, and then had Dustin belt them out, one hand on his heart, the other raised high in the air. They often sang together. I sat in the armchair and laughed. The man was shirtless, sweat pouring down his face and chest in the middle of summer, pooling around all the crucifixes he was wearing. We bought a mirror from him for $5. It’s hanging in our bedroom.
But also this guy and his INSANE INSANE storefront have gone on for over a year and I have come to hate him. Just to be clear.