My high-rise apartment in the sky was bought from the allowance of my labor at the private bank of JPMorgan. While logging in hours — I was privy to the deals the credit team hatched for the benefit of portfolio rearrangements and offshore decoration.
My bonus was in summation with those deals.
The good years didn’t last for long but the duration provided the authority to venture into the foray of unrequited dreams.
I got to convert my slave labor into an abode on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
A stunning building on 95th and Lexington. The architecture on the outside was the stuff that filmmakers gravitate to with zero reservations. The inside instantly reminded me of what I could expect from a Woody Allen film.
You can hardly find an old structure boasting a sprawling carpeted staircase all the way to the top. But, I found it.
The space assigned to me breathtakingly welcomed my sight as soon as the door swept open.
A studio with four large windows overlooking the city that fucked me and then finally allowed me the very same pleasure.
After breathing the smell of fresh paint and new everything — I signed the dotted lines to love everlasting.
The gift of sacrificing steady meals and spontaneous treats for the view of a lifetime — and the honor of owning the address to a neighborhood that signifies your elevated status.
It was so worth it.
Not too long ago while stuck in the confines of a less than sufficient Airbnb — I would lay awake as I listened to the snores and gasps of my fellow bunkmates.
Awake with wonder and concern for my beloved home. Who on earth is dwelling in my dream and are they as enraptured as I was?
Do they stand and stare in awe at all the ruckus below? Do they ponder the light rays against the wall? Have they realized that fireworks on display use the windows for support?
Have they figured out the secret to never leaving for another dream unrealized?
I’m still learning.
In the meantime the love of my life is loving another.
And I’m still searching…