June 23, 1992
Finished moving my worldly goods, European division, into my new studio at around four o’clock in the morning. Now I’m leaving Paris yet again, on three hours of sleep and nothing but coffee in my stomach.
The (almost) four months I lived at 1 rue du Four, I felt like a visitor to Paris. I knew the clock was ticking, that I only had the apartment until the end of summer and I had to make the most of it. Now, I feel like I have a home.
8 rue Boutarel isn’t going away. The rent is so low – $4000 a year – that barring complete financial ruin, it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever be forced to give it up. Unlike New York, unlike San Francisco, it’s not connected to a job or a girlfriend or any other part of my life that might change. It’s a retreat, a little square of earth I can always return to. I’m so happy to have it. And the best part is, Patrick and Sandrine are my neighbors. I hope they stay together. I hope they never leave.
