Horatio Street

I found my New York home in the West Village, on Horatio Street, again through airbnb.com. It was a studio filled with vintage paintings of flowers and wood furniture, and owned by a writer for the New York Times. Fortuitously, it was two blocks away from the Magnolia Bakery, where I found myself a year before.

I was brushing my teeth one night when it dawned on me that the studio on Horatio Street was the first place I stayed on my trip that didn't have blue glass. "It must have been a coincidence with the other places," I thought to myself.

With toothbrush still in hand, I took a look around, just to double check, only to discover in the darkest corner of a small shelf... blue glass. And next to it a tiny frame holding an image of a saint, shaped like the Virgin of Juquila, encrusted in shells.