C: You remember stopping at the Dunkin Donuts on our way home?
E: No, not really.
C: They were giving you a hard time about using the bathroom without buying anything. And you really had to go.
E: But somebody else was buying stuff, right?
C: Sure, but you weren’t. So when we finished up and went outside, you walked around to the drive-in window, and we were all like, what is he doing now? Then you peed in the speaker.
E: No way. Seriously?
C: I was there!
- Caroline & Erik, 2009
The Pink House was like an underground United Nations. Chapel Hill's aspiring artists, musicians, poets, DJ's, activists, actors, writers, nudists, flutists, knuckleheads, and couch-surfers, all living together in (relative) harmony, united by their common bohemianism. Life inside the Pink House often consisted of weird shit happening at all hours, every day, it rarely stopped. And there's something about that place that won't allow the vibe to ever fully dissipate. / PinkHouseForever.org
No comments:
Post a Comment