So, I am sitting in a coffee shop in Greenwich Village, New York, and I don’t know for sure what I want to write, so I am just going to start spewing out some words and hope that, in the end, they make sense.  If they don’t, well, I am sitting in a coffee shop in New York City, writing, and I consider that in itself enough.

Unquestionably, this city takes up the vast majority of my heart, for reasons even I don’t understand – so don’t bother asking me why I love it so much,  I just do.  Pretty sure, though, that I was born with NYC blood pumping through my veins.  I am adopted, so it is completely reasonable to think that my birth mother shagged some guy named Bobby from FDNY Ladder 69 – nobody really knows the story of my conception, so who’s to say it’s not true.

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