Personal Essays



I can hear you asking – was it all worth it? Have I been cured of my expatriate’s obsession? Or did I just take the edge off it for a while? It’s tough to say. Sometimes, I think New York is a kind of sci-fi octopus with psychic tentacles that stay attached to everyone who’s ever passed through it. If that’s true, then I don’t think there is a cure for it. The best thing is to keep going back now and then to take the edge off and try to stay functional the rest of the time.

But I was reminded of something even more important while I was there. People exist in context; they change based on the background. To encounter me at the Met is to know a different me than exists in Boston or L.A. or anywhere else on earth. At the Met, I feel most like myself – my passionate, persistent, intuitive, inquisitive, observant, out-going, real self.

But it does make me wonder now –

Who am I everywhere else?
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