On October 12, 2004, I took the m60 from 116th and Broadway to Laguardia. The bus turned right on 120th and then a left onto Amsterdam. I was writing in my journal trying to record every feeling from my first solo trip to New York, but a couple blocks down Amsterdam ‘The World At Large’ came on my iPod. I looked up and saw the sunset over Harlem. It’s not the most scenic view, but fall makes me sentimental – I think it’s the smell of air without summer’s humidity. Everything feels fresh.

“I will move to New York,” is the last thing I wrote that night.

On August 30th, 2010, I moved into my teensy, tiny apartment on 122nd and Amsterdam. For me things are rarely this poetic. Life feels for the most part disjointed. I’m forever stumbling from one mess to the next. It’s not a small consolation to think that if my 18-year-old self could observe me from 8/30/2010 to 8/30/2011 that she would be elated.

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