I live in a new neighborhood now. This major life shift happened almost without ceremony. The movers just did their job and I followed them. I set up the dominoes (sold the apartment and packed the boxes - I like being forced to diagram out my metaphors) and let them fall (the movers came, dominoes are a good metaphor), feeling not at all involved or in control of the falling. We all followed, I followed myself I guess. The new life is great and is what I wanted, but wasn't there supposed to be some event to mark the change? The only thing that got left behind I guess is the old apartment, neighborhood, and some aspects of my old way of life. ANYWAY I've been exploring Upper Manhattan like a forward scout for a the British Army, running over the hills in my red shirt, looking for Washington and his men, or for that good pizza place everyone's talking about.