Click on the image below to take a trip to the Flip Collective.
It rains all day. Not in manageable sprinkles but in impossible, regular torrents. We walk around Woodstock, which is really just a winding main street flanked by old buildings filled with new shit: shirts and coffee cups, summer cardigans and ornamental bongs. Soon enough everyone is wet and impatient and someone suggests going to the local movie theater, an ancient three-screen with a proper marquee, the kind with black letters someone stands on a ladder to arrange by hand.