On Sunday I start the living in my new apartment in the Cobble Hill section of Brooklyn, overlooking the lovely Brooklyn/Queens Expressway, the soothing hum of traffic an approximation of the ocean I grew up next to, the small studio space just enough for me and mine, my studio and a drawing table and I'm gonna get a cat as yet unnamed, a kitchen for me to cook in and a bed big enough for me and a somebody else to sleep in, finally. Living alone finally, for the first time in my life. When I first moved out of my Mom's house, I took a room in an ancient Victorian mansion with seven other inhabitants, and that mock family became my own for three years. I am attached to the places I stay. I nest, I den, I hermitage. Sunday I begin a new life in another new place, the kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom all mine, all calling my name.