Irony at Its Finest

New England is charming. From the beach to the mountains, and the little towns and villages in between––I am happy living here, exploring here and feel that the area is now a part of my mien.

But New York City is “home.” I can look at every curb, every street, every bus stop and recall an incident, a memory, a story, a party, a fight, a cocktail, a falafel wolfed down at 4am and unfortunately yakked back up by 4:05.

So while I love the life I live elsewhere––returning to congested, noisy, expensive New York feels like a breath of fresh air.