On February 8th, I moved into an apartment in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. I haven’t lived in the city since July 31, 2011. Nearly three years have passed since I called NY home. When I lived in California, I was certain I’d never go back to New York City. There was so much air in California. I had my Lost Days, the days where I slept, but it was with the windows open and the sunlight streaming in, fierce. It was beautiful and it was lonely and it was hard.
I had to make myself do things. I had to make friends.
Moving back to New York…that first week reminded me of moving to LA. I have plenty of friends in New York, but I hadn’t connected with them, really connected with them, in some time. You can’t just go back. Things have changed. People have changed. In New York, everything changes, and the city forgets you.
You forget the city too. You walk West when you mean to walk East. You transfer subway lines and end up going the wrong way. You learn about new ways to travel, a ferry that goes right across the East River…perhaps these things had existed in the 7 years I spent in New York, but I’m relearning them.
I’m relearning my friends, and my relationship to this town.
I am so glad to be back.