Hello Again and again and again

 When I arrived on the “shores” of New York City in the winter of 2011 I was what can only be described as a “total disaster human—” faking adulthood and literally living on Tyne Daly’s sofa. Don’t get me wrong— there are worse places to be lost, heartbroken, poorly dressed, couch-surfing and unfamiliar with such adult concepts as a credit score, the cost of milk, or how to get a mobile telephone despite being twenty-six years old and having had, prior to this moment, modest artistic success in ...