This is a city I never stop falling in love with, the longer I am away the fonder my heart grows. As I make home with my current city, which is actually my old city whose streets I’ve driven for the past two decades in my dad’s Mustang, my friend’s Chevette, my Odyssey, I visit my old city which is actually my new city and it somehow feels like coming home.

This is the city where you walk the crowded sidewalk with a slice of pizza, cup of Joe’s coffee or Mister Softee cone in your hand while hearing the beating drums, jazz quartet or pianist, heading to the bookstore, theater or bar then stumble upon an artist selling jewelry, paintings or music. This is a city of predictability, a city of spontaneity, a city of connection; anyone from anywhere can belong.


Creating, being and seeing art at The Whitney Museum.

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