ph, please.

when i walk the perimeter of gramercy park i feel like i'm in a novel. one full of mystery and characters with an exorbitant amount of money, and yet still wallowing in their sorrows. when i gaze up, i picture the protagonist, a tortured young, rich girl perched by the window in her penthouse apartment, peering down at me, watching my every move.

see, i get into it! there's something about those buildings... they hold secrets only the imaginary characters in my head can tell me.

the other day, i got the below scan of the wall street journal in an email from my mother.

as it turns out, arnie, her co-worker, who receives the wall street journal all the way over in a small town in california, took it upon himself to snip this page out to share with my mom.

is this your daugther's place?

ha! i wish! although, it is just around the corner. i do love that he circled the $42 million in case we might miss that minor detail.

a couple weekends ago i decided to go seek out this gem of an apartment and maybe, you know, introduce myself to mr. anderson. i awkwardly stood outside snapping photos while the doorman gave me the eye as he "swept" outside. no sign of the millionaire, but i am considering adding to my new york bucket list taking a dip in that infinity pool.

i am grateful for my neighborhood. thankful that of all the ridiculously overpriced places to live in new york city, i somehow ended up in this neck of the woods.

ps. i did purchase this book at the strand not too long ago. see, it really does exist!
p.p.s. i once spotted johnny depp parading the park. it was a pinch me moment.