David Sley

One week ago today, a midwestern grain company flew me to their headquarters.  As you know, I’ve been pursuing a career in commodity trading for over a year.

Amazingly enough, they asked me to join their grain merchandisers.
(Thank you, Miss J for the congratulatory botanical treat)

Yes, this means leaving the City of twenty-four hour falafels.

But I couldn’t say “goodbye” to this little burg without riding the subways once more, and going out for a final “hurrah?”

Can you see ze ratt?

My naked apartment.  Thanks for the memories, seventy-eighth and second.

The semantics of packing and uprooting a home are always difficult.

Sayonara, little island.  We shall meet again.

Meanwhile, we’re taking
The Commentary
elsewheres.