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The past is a black hole, cut into the present day like a wound, and if you come too close, you can get sucked in. You have to keep moving.
New York has a way of forgetting you.
I have always lived in the myth of New York more than in its reality.
The first place you live alone, away from your family, he said, is the first place you become a person, the first place you become yourself.
To live in a city is to take part in and to propagate its impossible systems. To wake up. To go to work in the morning. It is also to take pleasure in those systems because, otherwise, who could repeat the same routines, year in, year out?
