Author Henry Miller spent the first nine years of his life in an apartment at 662 Driggs Avenue in Williamsburg, before moving along to places in Bushwick, Park Slope, and Brooklyn Heights (and later on, Manhattan). He ultimately turned his back on NYC entirely (late in life, he referred to it as "that old shithole, New York, where I was born"), but his formative years happened in Brooklyn. And now you have the chance to unlock the amateur erotic writer inside of you by subletting his old apartment for the summer.

According to Street Easy, the fully-furnished one-bedroom top floor apartment at 662 Driggs Avenue (between Metropolitan and Fillmore Place) is available for subletting for the summer (four months only) starting June 1st (or mid-May). They write: "A full floor-through, top floor apartment, with tons of light and old world charm. With three exposures, four skylights, and a Juliet balcony, you will feel inspired every day." Give or take the "glorified suicide ledge," that actually does sound quite nice!

It's going for $3,200 a month—which is notably up from a previous listed price of $2,600/month on Douglas Elliman, but them's the breaks. Not to harp on the point, but despite the landmark status of the area due to his early presence, Miller was always (subtly) sour about it, as The New Yorker pointed out:

Not far from [662 Driggs], a one-block row of townhouses called Fillmore Place, which abuts Driggs Avenue, was turned into a historic district in 2009 by the Landmarks Preservation Commission. The designation report notes that in “Tropic of Capricorn,” Miller called it “the most enchanting street I have ever seen in all my life. It was the ideal street—for a boy, a lover, a maniac, a drunkard, a crook, a lecher, a thug, an astronomer, a musician, a poet, a tailor, a shoemaker, a politician.” Yet this doesn’t exactly seem like a compliment, with the quick descent from “lover” to “thug.”

But hey, maybe that sourness is what led to some of Henry's most inspired work. Maybe it'll rub off on you—if we learned anything from the classic early '90s late night cable flick Henry & June, it's that great artists are really into rubbing off on each other.