The other day, we made our way across the island in search of a tiny little pop up shop. In a brick and glass storefront hidden under the beautifully overgrown highline, a temporary store had emerged, dedicated to Gaby's one real true love- Mr. Bob Dylan. We arrived to the discreet storefront, and Gaby was instantly in paradise. While he perused the music-legend goods, I snapped a few photos of the shop and the neighborhood. I used to walk over here to the Meatpacking district when I first moved to the city, making my way east to west past the warehouses and the abandoned industrial buildings and the butchers in the garages hanging with slaughtered cattle and the trucks double-parked everywhere spewing exhaust. It was really something to see, especially if you wandered the streets int the early hours of the morning when the workers were just getting started on their day's load. It was kind of terrifying and disgusting, kind of awe-inspiring, and always cinematic. Now the cobblestone streets are lined with high-fashion shops and restaurants, but the industrial feeling remains. It's kind of crazy how now, as a mother, I look at neighborhoods so very differently than I used to. Now I see the architecture and the culture and the people, and I think to myself, what would it be like to raise
Gaby didn't end up buying anything at the shop. Instead, we decided that it would be more fun to go see Dylan live when he tours through Brooklyn in a couple months. We have our tickets in hand, and Gaby is over the moon.
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