Welcome...back

Many months have passed.
The earth has shifted.
Spring has returned.
The year is 2005...the year of the...wait a second. Someone's screaming or yelling outside my window. It sounds resentful...angry.
Welcome to New York. I'm in a very small apartment, with a sofa-bed and and a kitchen made for hobbits. It has a half-fridge, and a half-table, and a half-cutting board, and a mini-stove, and a tiny window. And the studio is mine alone...though the exposed toilet sitting downstairs in the laundry room disturbs me a little. Still, I should be glad there's even a laundry room (I hear you, jealous angry people!)

The yelling has stopped. Sometimes even New York has its limits.