“I LIKE New York, ok? I just don’t want to be its darling.” I walked back to the barn, stomped through the puddles, made a big splash. Having a show in a NY gallery was a way for me to pay for the luxury of looking at a pond filled with ducks and frogs each morning. Why, besides the shopping, would she want us to live there six months of the year? I opened the barn doors, exalted at the sight of my canvases, the hay.

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