The street - in this case Park Place, as I walked from the 7th Avenue subway stop to return the keys to my landlady on Prospect Place - gave me an image which somehow spoke to how I'm feeling having sent everything on its way to another place. A little messy but free, and a sign of life going on... A pie at Joyce (which I'd never buy) offered complicated feelings about the prospect of parting with Brooklyn, too.
(Of course it's not as if I'm going very far - a dozen miles as the crow flies, and there are even two convenient subway connections from the new place to the old. Brooklyn and Manhattan just feel - or fancy they feel - like different worlds.) An hour away - we're still neighbors...!
