Moving can be a pretty emotional experience. (Not for me, of course, because I am a bad-ass. I refer here to others.) After you’ve packed and emptied the place you called home, it’s hard not to be reminded of your mortality when you see all that empty space. Soon, someone else’s stuff will fill that void. Soon, someone else will call that place home.

After ten years in Brooklyn, I sure will miss the place. My new home in Manhattan is a big step up in just about every way, but I’ll always have a soft spot for the people and places on the Q train. Do cats get wistful, too? Or is Marla just wondering where her litterbox went?

(Bklyn Blggng HQ)