I often find myself missing my old residence in Little Italy. We called it the teal house and the fact that it was teal was definitely the #1 reason we wanted to live there. It really wasn't anything special. The inside was in acceptable condition for college living but needed more coats of paint than we could give it, the landlord was awful, and we had a slew of terrible tenants that lived below us at various times (excluding the Tomlinsons). But still, there was something about that house that really felt like home to me and I miss it. Maybe it was the people I was around at the time, the people that were constantly in and out of the house, sharing wine on Friday nights. Or maybe it was the stage of life I was in, nothing that needed my time aside from school, my art and the occasional tutoring job. It was the first time I felt like I was really living life on my own (even though I had a roommate). Some friends and I were telling stories about times in the teal house this weekend and I've been thinking about it ever since. Good times, great oldies.
(The images above are a selection taken from an illustrated book I made of the teal house for a handmade book class in college.)