Two nights ago, I had a dream where I was living in Prague. Last night I had a dream in which my friend Cory Doctorow was passing the lease for his SoHo loft over to me. Cory doesn’t even live in New York — he’s in the city he likes to refer to as “San Fran-scarcity”.
(Cory: in case you were wondering, it was a damned fine loft on Prince Street, atop a building with those banners that seem to hang from every building in SoHo. I must say that when I dream, I always get kick-ass real estate.)
As I was typing the last sentence, I was trying to think of why the loft would be on Prince Street. It could be the fact that I usually end up there whenever I go to New York, or perhaps it’s my desire for a new iBook — an Apple Store opened on Prince Street just recently.
I think I’ve been bitten by the travel bug. A pity travel isn’t in the cards, given my financial situation.
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