One morning, a few days ago, I caught myself unable to tear myself away from the view out my kitchen window.

“This is my favourite view,”  I said aloud.  And meant it truthfully.

At current moment, there is loud music pouring out the door across the hall.  Clapping, live singing, a live band is playing music for the whole building.  I cannot make out the words…something about love and pain.  Isn’t it always?

I joke with my tour patrons that New York is a place you come by yourself, but are never *truly* alone. 

Perhaps that’s why I love my apartment living.

I have all the privacy I could ever want,
plus all the activity I could possibly handle.

The neighbors cheer and clap in time to the music.
I’m just happy to be invited to the party.

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