My first apartment in New York City was much more than just four walls and a roof to me, and to many others in my life. 217 was my first home. I lived a lot of life, both good and bad in that place. The art I made, the parties I had, the neighbors I upset, the neighborhood I became familiar with, the food I cooked, and learning to live on my own are all critical aspects that made me the person I am today, and I miss it a lot. I contacted anyone who spent time at 217 to help me relive the memories in as much detail as possible in a beautiful coffee table book.
