As I walked uptown on Third Avenue I saw an Afghani turning off the lights of his newspaper stand, a recently homeless woman sitting on a bench eating a chili dog, a bank executive getting into his limo while sending an email from his Blackberry, a mentally ill man shouting “this is just like New Orleans”, German tourists discussing the best way to the Chrysler Building and countless of other unrelated stories in just one block. This is why I came to New York; as a story collector there is nothing else to ask than a walk during rush hour.

A girl from Morocco is staying 3 weeks in my apartment; we are having intensive French, Spanish and Arabic lessons and are already planning a gourmet fest of chiles rellenos and cous-cous. It’s her first time in America and she landed in a house full of Mexicans, which in a funny way, I think is very representative of this country.