Björk by Mark Borthwick
I spent Christmas Eve in Brooklyn. it was dark and cold but I was wearing platform heels and very skinny Cheap Monday jeans that nilo use to wear a couple of years ago... I am not sure about this, but I think we were walking around this hip neighborhood and somehow joined a dinner party at an artist's loft. there she was
beautiful space with different levels and just a few stairs used to be a fabric factory. a cyder fuit punch with cinnamon, a lot of art in the walls and hanging from the wooden ceiling, a huge terrace with Manhattan views and snow and Björk and some other people. she sat on the other side of the table and was wearing a red sweater, how appropiate for Christmas.
I invited her to dance while the guys were talking about fake wifes. that night ended too soon. she went back to the Big Apple walking the Williamsburg Bridge with her dog and left me a note
mar, meet me tomorrow @ -this bar in the East Village- for late lunch/early dinner.
the next day I couldn't remember if it was really her and wasn't able to find the bar either, I think. I can´t remember the name of the bar now. this was last year
this one I spent on a plane. I love swiss air