I have an early and highly visual memory of staying with my grandmother in Forest Hills, where she lived in a great big white brick building called the Diplomat. At night when it was dark for sleep, I would watch the lines of light from the window blinds move across the ceiling to the side wall as the trajectory of car lights would change as they drove by. I wanted to know where they were all going.
This was the moment I discovered my love for this place where people seemed to have far more interesting things to do than go to bed. I would eventually return to NYC and make it my lifelong home.
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