It is past midnight and Troy, Marcelo, Oscar and I are in the living room drinking wine around a candlelight as we wait for the electrician to come and fix our electricity. Troy and Marcelo are making our Thanksgiving plans and describing deep-fried turkey and green-bean casserole. Do you like okra? What about collards? "How do I write collard greens?", I asked Troy. "If you are quoting me, you can say I said 'collards', that's what we call them." In the meantime, the electrician has come with the bad news that it is not a fuse problem but a failure in the whole wiring system, which means we won't have electricity tonight, or not even tomorrow. We could all sleep in the living room. Camping in.

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"I like your blog", Josefa exclaimed to my surprise over brunch yesterday. I don't consider myself a writer or an artist, but knowing that what I write connects with others' experience gives it a greater meaning. We had a long conversation about life-changing decisions, love and work from a gender perspective. "I think it is our responsibility to show a new role model for the women coming behind us, the new generations", she said. "Some people say you can't have it all: work and a family," she continued. "Why not?" I interrupted without knowing the answer. Yesterday was Josefa's birthday and she felt like walking around Soho before meeting with friends to let the hours go by as we drank bottles of prosecco at a bar in the West Village.

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"What date is today?" Troy asked, "it is my New York anniversary; I've been here for 14 years." We all sigh to the idea of time passing by so fast. "I reckon I'll be here for a 'coon's age'", Troy says with a Southern accent that rarely shows.