THE MOVE is over. I am ensconced in my new digs. Somehow, it all fits. I call it “my funky hideaway”, making a concerted effort not to take my emotional temperature every ten minutes. A lot is good about it. The apartment is cozy; it has good energy; it has three closets (that is a lot for one bedroom apartments – don’t ask); the patio is huge (relatively speaking) with room for barbecue and plants; the piano fits; the Eurobox signal is strong; it is next to City Market; an Italian Deli is on the corner; “Andre” sells flowers/plants across the street; the tram is close by; my landlord speaks English (he is British); AND the Med is a few blocks away.
I won’t list the bad.
Now, between you and me, living in a town is different from visiting. I am into my third year in France with reality checks around every corner. I am convinced that solving problems will keep me young. Different neighborhoods, different everything – a different lifestyle than I’ve known before. Each block has its own personality. This is how I have imagined it would be to live in NYC. I am learning which streets are safe and which are not. It is a process. Right now, I feel wiped out – August and September took their toll.
These pictures give you an idea of the “before”. I am still working on the “after”. Once thirty-three paintings are on the walls, I may call it “my funky art studio”. My “City Pad”.
THIS IS A PICTURE of Lacy – my porcelain treasure. I bought her at the Nice Monday market, browsing through antiques (and LOTS of junk). She was a show stopper when I saw her. I wanted her immediately. I like her face and her outlandish, velvet costume. My homage to theatre. She reminds me of commedia dell’arte characters. My love for threatre history.
THESE ARE PICTURES of my New Neighborhoods. Never a dull moment!!
JAYSPEAK 