It was Summer in July in New York City. I'd just had food poisoning the day before from a questionable chicken parmigiana in Times Square. Word of advice: don't trust the parmi in Times Square. In fact, just stay away from Times Square in general. We took the subway, getting further away from the mid-town noise and made our way into Brooklyn. We got off the train, unknowingly at the wrong stop and walked around quiet streets, passing creepy men on motorcycles. We had no idea where we were so I checked Google Maps to head in the right direction. After a short walk and a quick subway ride, we stepped out into the sunny streets of Williamsburg. Sometimes you find yourself in a new place and you get that nostalgic feeling of home. For me, that happened in Williamsburg. I knew nothing about the place except that it was one of those "cool," "hipster" areas in New York.
The sun was shining softly through the trees, making a warm haze over a green park filled with people playing frisbee, having picnics and reading books. You couldn't wipe the smile off my face. We rummaged through racks and racks of vintage clothing, having a friendly chat with a fellow Australian and learnt about her own journey to the city. She came with her boyfriend and they decided to just go for it. We had tea in a nearby café and then did a little more shopping. The sun was slowly setting and people were still out, enjoying beers on their front steps, selling used clothes on the side of the road, walking their dogs. As we made our way back underground and into the subway, I made a promise to myself that I would come back to this little neighbourhood, and said goodbye to the Williamsburg sunshine.