Every time I come to New York I cry. I don’t cry a little, I cry a lot. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing, who I’m with, if it’s hot or if it’s cold, thick snow or boiling humid, damp heat, I’m still going to cry.
I made a drawing once called “Sad shower in New York”. It was a drawing of me hunched under a shower head, my body looking sad. The spray from the shower even looks sad, I’m crying. I made that drawing back in the Nineties.
