"I go every Sunday, when the island is open" he told me. "It is something special."
I now know why one would return to this little island just south of Manhattan with such frequency: it is charming, and it's even more endearing because of its run down buildings, the smell of the sea air, and it's quirkiness.
Biking along it's wide, shaded roads, exploring big abandoned houses... I could do that again. And again.
At the very least, I want to make sure I make it back next summer for the Jazz-Age Lawn Party. How could I have missed it this year?






