A woman from Brooklyn

I ran to the sea. As far as Fire Island. On September 11, 2013 was over 92 degrees Fahrenheit. I couldn't help but run because I felt sorry for the summer leaving.

The water warmed up all summer. I went into the water and came out. And ran over the sand. I felt as if I were flying in the sky.

On the beach, old men, covering only the main part with a camera-shaped swim pants, were wandering around with their arms crossed. Maybe they're looking for a mate? A middle-aged man welcomed me. I saw him coming from afar, but with no swimsuit on, he proudly put out his penis and "Hi," "Let's take a break and talk."

There are unusually many people walking around naked today. Did they naked to catch the leaving summer?

As I approached the end of the island, the less people became. The woman who was running in front of me turned around. I turned too. The man as if he had waited for me to come, was blocking my way and saying, "Let's have a talk. Where are you from?" Why me? The lady in front of me is a white and younger than me. Asian looks easy. "I'm from Brooklyn. What are you going to do?" I ran away.

'Where are you from?' My answer is always 'Brooklyn'. Looking forward to their flaccid response that I would be a wild woman from a very tough place. 'Health' is my priority. I don't care about naked men.

"The sand is very hot. Lie down. It's wife's favorite sauna." My husband was excited to find a sand field that turned black purple after getting more sunburned while I was running. I lay down on the sand. My body melted away into the sand.

"I guess I'm not old yet. While jogging, three or four men talked to me naked." “Because they're crazy, they don't work on Wednesday and hang around naked at the beach. And talk to you. ”

"Before the year goes, come again on a day of over 85 degrees." "Well, will such a day come again?" My husband slowly goes crazy about the sea like me.