I love to travel (even to gross NYC), especially when it brings me to those little memories that barely matter today, but come back to me in 3 years. Traveling also means readjusting your creative juices. We passed by a few flea markets in NYC where I found a few one-of-a-kinders, such as the intricate metal disks found on my jewelry shop Web site.
Art-blasphemy it may be, but I really don’t like NYC. I feel dirty whenever I leave it and being around people who seem to get out of bed thinking, "How can I take life for granted and be as mean as possible today?" makes me feel gritty on the inside.
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