Marcus Lomboy.
Friend, brother, son, student, listener, thinker, creative, writer, poet, spoken word artist, performer, artist, emcee, storyteller, logophile, semi-professional class clown, bibliophile, sartorial enthusiast, sandwich connoisseur, shower singer, transformer, spitter of hot fyah.
Hip hop, poetry, music, art, graffiti, menswear, robots, ninjas, tacos, iced tea, bacon, sushi, sandwiches.
'91 | Toronto, Ontario, Canada by way of Quezon City, Philippines

I get my energy, from my inner G.
My greatest enemy, is my inner me.
Work hard. Play harder.
Walk with me.
humansofnewyork: This one is really special, guys: There is a Hilton Hotel on the corner of 42nd Street and 2nd Avenue. There you will find a doorman named Dennis. If you ask, Dennis will tell you the story of Bobby: “Bobby worked here for about 50 years.  Ten years ago he died of cancer.  But before he died, he said: ‘Dennis, I’m going to come back as a pigeon and I’m going to shit on you.’  A few years later, this white pigeon showed up and wouldn’t leave. So we named him Bobby.  He’s here everyday.  Remember that snowstorm last year that shut down the whole city?  Everybody told me Bobby wouldn’t come, but when I got to work—his tracks were in the snow.” Dennis then pulled a picture of Bobby out of his wallet.  I started to photograph it, and he said: “Let’s do it by the flowers—it will look nicer.”

humansofnewyork:

This one is really special, guys:

There is a Hilton Hotel on the corner of 42nd Street and 2nd Avenue. There you will find a doorman named Dennis. If you ask, Dennis will tell you the story of Bobby:

“Bobby worked here for about 50 years.  Ten years ago he died of cancer.  But before he died, he said: ‘Dennis, I’m going to come back as a pigeon and I’m going to shit on you.’  A few years later, this white pigeon showed up and wouldn’t leave. So we named him Bobby.  He’s here everyday.  Remember that snowstorm last year that shut down the whole city?  Everybody told me Bobby wouldn’t come, but when I got to work—his tracks were in the snow.”

Dennis then pulled a picture of Bobby out of his wallet.  I started to photograph it, and he said: “Let’s do it by the flowers—it will look nicer.”

1884 ♥ / 4 May, 2012
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