|All photos © 2012 Amber Schley Iragui|
It has rained all week, as you can see from my on the sidewalk photos. As I write, thunder is rumbling along the river accompanied by the tinny sound of rain on the metal air conditioners in the courtyard. Both my children are napping, the dishes are done, and I have a cup of earl gray beside me. I do not know what more I could want from life (OK, besides a garden and a chicken coop).
This week Charles and I signed the lease for our apartment for another year. This will be our third year in one place, and the first time I have lived anywhere longer than two years since I moved out of my parents home 18 years ago. Incredibly, that I have lived in 18 different places in an 18-year time span. I can think of two "homes" (apartments, really) that I absolutely loved, and I can think of two that I hated. The rest were somewhere in-between. Our home now is one of the in-betweens, but a good deal closer to "love" than "hate." One of the attractions is the neighborhood, which is small and charming—a little village, in fact. It is unlikely I go anywhere in our 'hood without running into people, sometimes many people, that I know. (Luckily anonymity is as close as the local subway line.) I try to look very busy when I'm shooting photos so people will be inclined to leave me alone, but it doesn't always work. People stop to chat while I'm in some crouched down position, poking my head behind bushes or around scaffolding, aiming my iphone at my feet, a shadow, or a pile of garbage bags. Which is just as well; we moved here, in part, because I wanted to feel more connected to the place I live. And I've got my wish, and for another year besides.