I'm here, I'm back, wandering the streets and breathing in the stinking, humid, glorious air of it all. The old man with a cane and a long white beard, wearing a Ramone's T-shirt; doing Lego on the Highline; perusing ideas for a sailor tattoo; the woman who posed for me in front of the street mural honouring a fallen NYPD officer. "Do you know him?" I asked, and she said yes. Hanging out with Rob, dinner with my brother, wandering Greenwich and Soho late at night, writing at unfamiliar kitchen tables. It's all good. This is the sentence that came to me this morning: "Everything unknown is also everything possible." Maybe I'll get a tattoo of that.