I was staying in Brooklyn in my trip I took to New York in the beginning of May ’17. I don’t really know what happened here. I was having a great time. I stayed with a friend, went out with some lawyer who found me arguing with the midnight shop clerk, and had a lot of expensive avocado toast.
Then I became depressed. But that’s normal.
I like to take my travel pictures of me being depressed. I think it shows my best side.
This place was called Healthy Food on Washington Blvd. or something (I actually don’t remember. It was a block or two away from the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. I’m probably doing a very terrible job of promoting black-owned businesses and I am sure Black Lives Matter Supporters will continue to ignore me from inquiring about hosting alternative perspective forums on that movement). I have to dig through my credit card purchases to get the real info. But yeah. Two blocks from the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens entrance.
They had some tasty normal things. Normal for the holistic foodie, that is. Quinoa with carrots and cabbage was kind of like their homemade classic dish version of chicken soup. And expensive juicery was their soda. Their soda was put in a side refrigerator (where it’s supposed to be… actually in the trash is where it’s supposed to be). Their juices were annoyingly screaming all the antioxidant content up front.
I feel like if I am a natural foodie I already know that all my food gives me free excessive antioxidants (which may or may not be unnecessary promotional emphasis). I mean that is why I eat it. And drink it. I mean I skip the movies on this shit. But the food is actually not shit. Modern movies are shit actually. So that’s kind of a false linguistic conclusion…
Anyway, it was a colorful small box in a cubicle set of street shops, like Brooklyn normal. People were friendly. A lot friendlier than the black people in St. Louis. Didn’t even call out, “You fine, girl.” once. I give it 5/5 stars, unlike 25% of my Uber customers, who short circuit me one or two at the most. I hate them. They point out how I don’t live up to my unrealistic Asian upbringing standards. I am pretty racist. But I get off the hook more because I am pretty literally pretty.
I was probably thinking about them in this picture.