The other night, my friend Meredith and I were walking through Williamsburg, our neighborhood in Brooklyn, and when we turned a corner near the BQE, we were met face-to-face with this:
We of course each took photos of it, because we’re country girls who thrive on the destruction of modern-day conveniences.
But what surprised me was how many people came out of nowhere to stand and stare at this thing. Plop a couple thousand movie stars down in the city, and everyone pretends they’re too busy to care. But burning rubber is hipster perfume.