After 11 years in New York City, at the age of 46, I was ready for a change. So I decided to move to the city that had fascinated me since my childhood in rural Maine: New Orleans.
In New Orleans, I imagined as I packed up my small apartment, I would live in a place with lofty ceilings, shuttered windows, slowly spinning ceiling fans, and, that precious luxury in New York, a yard. Or a porch. Or a balcony. In any case, not a fire escape.
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