No<->Space
![Image](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikPBS7RYSxOnYK51Hdc-5xpREqeNzsh5pOXyofZjNNDMlv-LxlvoINfwWaX7Jx7Faf_kilLeRmpJQ09B3i09AQ9-nGklp9kr4aejDkEVyP4HjvxzeZbpY_niIh-TRUkw3HtZW8kQ/s400/window+at+the+space.jpg)
Oh Brooklyn Coworking,oh place of many names, what words could I use to describe your edges, your curves, your science, your politics? Do I start with your quiet block of flowering trees, your white-washed exterior? Should I introduce you with your tangles of morning glories? Should I speak of activists, of collective art and theory, of debates long into the night with great minds from Italy and Queens? Do I start with the boys who live in back, the Havemeyer street boys, of warm soup on rainy days, the banjo yoga practicing on afternoons, the sharing of kindnesses. Do I talk of the way this place and the people in it fit me more than any other place has, more than any single lover? Do I talk of patriots and ex-patriots and sweaty lectures with people poured into the floor? Do I talk of dinner parties and dancing and standing silhouettes smoking outside windows? Do I talk of words and Not an Alternative and Zizek and Badiou? Of Germans and Italians and participation and design?