I live in Brooklyn. I see strange things here. More often then you’d think, these strange things are socks.
For example, one night I was walking through Park Slope with Carey, and I found this:
This, my friends, is a lonely sock.
Here is another look at him:
Now, if this was just one sock we were talking about here, that wouldn’t really mean anything. But maybe ten minutes later, I found this:
One is a fluke, two is the beginning of a pattern. And so, I set out to document as many lonely socks as I could find in Brooklyn and beyond. In the coming weeks, I will be sharing the results of this documentation with you here at Smichovsky.