W. 10th St.

Late afternoon yesterday during that beautiful hour when it stopped raining and the sun came out and the birds started chirping, I left a travel-writers' happy hour in the West Village with Rolf and David and Jessie, among others, and accompanied them to another travel-writing soiree on a roof deck on West 10th Street. The host was busy with guests, so I didn't ask to do Homebodies--I'll just leave names and people off this post. Also, I didn't feel like working! Because look at the view! I took my white wine and cheese cubes and hung out near the edge, looking out and over and down. Is that a hot pink track suit? Later, a guy walked by with very bright white shoes.

 

There was a very elegant man in a tweed jacket and a fuzzy beige beret, and I followed his lead by chucking olive pits onto the moss-covered soil in these planters.

I stayed so late! I ate so many cheese cubes! Travel writers have quite good stories.