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.