So here are my bedroom and my roofeck in my ex-apartment in the West Village, NYC. It was a great apartment, in a great neighborhood. It was "nice", and really represented the "success" that I found in my career...but I still wasn't happy. I knew that I needed to leave the publishing industry, at least temporarily, and leave New York. I felt stifled by everthing that I had, everything I worked so hard for. It was almost like these things were suffocating me. So, I decided to leave, to quit my job, to put my things in storage, and get on a plane for Europe until I figured some things out.
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