it seems to have happened again. but this time it really feels like it. like i’ve overstayed my welcome as a guest in this house in Brooklyn. just one day too long. i love being in New York. I just don’t think I can be a guest here anymore. it’s just so awkward. my hosts  put up such a protest against my insistence on treating them to dinner and i was so obstinate in my insistence… that the entire bill paying scenario became awkward and tense. and then I felt bad for creating this tension. it made me not entirely comfortable.

and then maybe they could tell that i was not entirely comfortable. maybe my discomfort was visible and they saw this and it made them uncomfortable. and this made me even more uncomfortable. 

but overall i still liked being here. in this city. getting lost. getting found. re-igniting neglected friendships. seeing art. walking. and walking.

it feels like home. even if it doesn’t feel like home. it’s the next closest thing. maybe that is good enough for now.