The Accidental New Yorker

Recently, nearly two years after I started working in New York City, I was told I refer to my home in Connecticut as merely that—“Connecticut”—no “home” preceding it. My condo is now mostly a place to sleep after a ten-hour workday capped with a five-hour round-trip commute. Still, it’s remained a sanctuary: a place to … Continue reading The Accidental New Yorker

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