Capuchi complained that I haven’t updated my blog in a long time, so here I am, writing so he can follow me from Tijuana. I might have told you already, but yesterday was my 7th anniversary in New York City. Lots of faces and names passed in front of me. I moved into the city with Javier, to whom I married and later divorced; and since then my life has changed several times in lots of different ways. Back then I couldn’t afford to spend more than $10 dollars a day, but I was producing biweekly documentaries for the local TV station, and many doors opened for me. I first fell in love with New York at the opening party of the MOMA in Queens. I went with my friend Diego. I was surprised about how such a diverse crowd of graffiti artists, art philanthropists, financiers, and undocumented immigrants could break-dance to Michael Jackson’s Billie Jean at the same dance floor. I came very young, a post-teenager wearing stylish t-shirts and converse; now I look like more like a grown-up, with red nail polish and black high heels.