One year ago today, I rode the 1 train downtown from the Upper West Side hostel where I had been staying and moved into my first ever New York apartment. Well, “apartment” may be generous (see photo evidence above*). As some of you know, I live in a women’s residence run as a charitable mission by an order of Catholic nuns. At the time, I thought I’d only be here a few months. Soon, I’d find a regular job and be able to afford a studio apartment of my own, one with a bathroom and a kitchen and air conditioning. Of course, things never work out as intended, and I’m still here. But I’ve gotten used to the minor inconveniences of living in confined quarters, operating under someone else’s rules. (To wit: no visitors allowed, so this photo is the first time most people will have seen my room.) It’s a small sacrifice to live in one of the best neighborhoods of one of the best cities in the world, and I’m grateful to the Sisters for taking me in. A year in, it’s easy to take New York for granted, but where else in the world would I rather be?
(Answer: NOWHERE)
*dim fluorescent ring bulb + no white balance = a photo that looks like it was taken in 1968. But at least you see three walls and the door frame. I’m also not allowed to put anything on the walls, but there’s no rule against festive curtains!
Look, Sally, Look 