As much as I like to use this blog as a way to write about things I see in New York, I should mention that after three years in this great city, I'm trading up. As of January 5th, I will be the newest immigrant to Sydney, Australia. My company is transferring me, and for the foreseeable future, I will be acclimating to a lifestyle of 300 days of sunshine. But don't worry New York: If I ever move back to America, you are the place I'm coming back to.
So, the beginning of the end has begun. In other words, I've started packing. I'm going to document this experience as much as possible (depending more or less on my laziness at any given moment). I'm officially moving out of my Williamsburg, Brooklyn apartment on December 14th, but most of my stuff will be sold/shipped/thrown out before then. I've decided to post some photos of the de-evolution of my bedroom from a place I love to just another address I used to live at. This is where the hard part, emotionally speaking, of moving starts to kick in. Three weeks from today, I will no longer live in New York. That's proving to be more difficult to rationalize than I originally thought.
I know exciting things are waiting for me in Sydney, but New York is addictive and only people that have lived here for a significant portion of time know this. Right when you think you're ready to leave, this place sucks you back in with something amazing. In the end, you catch yourself digging your claws in trying to hold on as tight as possible to a place you love because it's home.