flâneur

sanctuary - by Elaine - manners & mystery

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There’s a certain kind of serendipity that happens in New York. You can feel bone-deep loneliness one minute and unexpected connectedness the next. Last April, I was feeling mildly depressed and socially disengaged. I had signed up for a 20-mile “hygge hike” from Williamsburg to Long Island City with complete strangers. When the day arrived, it felt like a Herculean commitment. Just go for an hour or two, I reasoned to myself. I ended up staying for the whole thing and came home at 11 p.m. with a big, silly grin on my face, more energized than if I had downed five shots of espresso. The way that day unfolded was nothing short of magical. Racing against the forecasted rain, we took shelter in an art gallery on LIC where we somehow slipped into front-row seats at a jazz concert and caught a few acts of stand-up comedy. Then, we dashed across the street and devoured pizza and garlic knots while making plans to hang out again. What I didn’t know I needed—and what I found that day—was a con

Cecily Brown, The Picnic, 2006 There’s a certain kind of serendipity that happens in New York. You can feel bone-deep loneliness one minute and unexpected connectedness the next. Last April, I was feeling mildly depressed and socially disengaged. I had signed up for a 20-mile “hygge hike” from Williamsburg to Long Island City with complete strangers. When the day arrived, it felt like a Herculean commitment. Just go for an hour or two, I reasoned to myself. I ended up staying for the whole thing and came home at 11 p.m. with a big, silly grin on my face, more energized than if I had downed…

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