A SUNNY DAY IN NEW YORK CITY

A sunny day in New York City

A Christian Dior shows me no pity

It clings and hugs

That’s the heat or drugs?

I slap myself: don’t be so silly

I’m pure I fly

Upon my dreams across the sky

This English voice, I find it funny

I wit I whim like its made of honey

These city steets

I spot my friends

From Mercer, Greene to wherever sends

This day to next

I share the joy

Of an Anglo-Saxon cultural ploy

We speak the same, share our songs

The same old movies of flips and thongs

I would love to tell you not to dismay

I see no problems – it’s middle May!

Maintain your smiles – they’re forever charming

One goes as far to say disarming

I like your vibe

I like your air

As long as you let me not care

Soho to SoHo, Sunshine melts tough expressions, Happy to see me

 

At 8:40am yesterday, I approach three women on the almost deserted Coney Island beach who are standing by some rocks, plastic anoraks and bonnets protecting them from the drizzle and ocean spray. “Good morning! Could you take a photograph of me please?” … She turns to the others in confusion. «Вы говорите по-русски?» «Да.» «Можно, пожалуйста, сделать фотку?» «Конечно!» At this point, I realise they are not simply women: they are babushki. I ask them where they’re from. «Отсюда!», pointing onwards to Brighton Beach.

 

What are you afraid of?
Compliment a stranger – they’re more familiar than you think! I met Sue Kreitzman, a lady as New York as New York can be, in London, a short leapfrog over the Big Pond, who just happens to be a great friend of Valerie, with whom in this photo I present the finds of the century – messieurs Dior et Saint Laurent for less dollars than you’d think…

EntTake the M train to… Venice? 
Or to СССР. Или в всякаю локацию.
Бабушка говорит on her flip phone – her lifeline. Russian words now comprehensible exit her lined pink lips: слушай; ну, да; всё пока.
How old is this view? As old as my daydreams.er a caption

 

A sunny day in New York City

A Christian Dior shows me no pity

It clings and hugs

That’s the heat or drugs?

I slap myself: don’t be so silly

I’m pure I fly

Upon my dreams across the sky

This English voice, I find it funny

I wit I whim like its made of honey

These city steets

I spot my friends

From Mercer, Greene to wherever sends

This day to next

I share the joy

Of an Anglo-Saxon cultural ploy

We speak the same, share our songs

The same old movies of flips and thongs

I would love to tell you not to dismay

I see no problems – it’s middle May!

Maintain your smiles – they’re forever charming

One goes as far to say disarming

I like your vibe

I like your air

As long as you let me not care

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