Fucking fantastic. That’s great news. I’m so happy for you. You must be so thrilled.
    I am.
    Have you told many people?   
    Only a few. You’re one of the first.
    Well, that’s great. God, so happy for you. When do you leave?
    Next month.
    Wow. Great. So great. You’re keeping your apartment?
    Yeah, you could sublet if you want.
    Oh no. That’s alright. I’m happy where I am.
    Where are you?
    Here, there, everywhere. I’m like a sparrow, flitting around on residential trees.
    We’ll give you a good rate if you change your mind.
    I like the freedom. I don’t want to be tied down. I like exploring different neighborhoods.
    Have you ever been to the Bronx?
    It’s not bad, really. Really not bad.
    Is that where you are now?   
    No, I’m in Chelsea.   
    It’s only temporary. I like it. Suits me.
    Expensive, no?
    Money doesn’t concern me. I’ve moved beyond it. Once you stop thinking about it you realize it doesn’t matter.
    So you’re broke?
    Broke. Rich. It’s the same thing. I’m both.    
    I see. Hey, I have to be going. We should get a drink sometime.   
    I’m free now.   
    Sorry, I have to go.
    You can’t have a drink with me?
    No, sorry. I have to meet Sheila.   
    Who’s that?
    My girlfriend. You met her.   
    Was I drunk?
    Is she going with you to Rome?    
    Not sure yet. Maybe part of the time.
    I once spent a week in Roma. With Isabella. She was my French tutor. Iranian. Her French wasn’t very good but she knew more than me. She was studying nursing in Strasbourg, and we took the train together. She didn’t know English very well either. We just stared into each other’s eyes. I liked it when she talked to me in Farsi. It’s a very sexy language, Farsi. Kind of rough but sexy. Iranian women are sexy, wouldn’t you agree?
    I guess.     
    They are. More beautiful than any women in the world. Trust me on this. American women don’t even begin to compare. There’s absolutely no comparison. I don’t know how anyone can be  happy with an American girl, after you’ve gone international. Where’s Sheila from?
    South American women. Always late. Weird father issues. If you don’t yell at them and order them around they won’t respect you. I’m sure you’ve found that out.     
    No, I haven’t.     
    Well, you will. Soon, my friend. You’ll find out. Trust me on this. If there’s one thing I know it’s women. I could write a book on it. The women of the world. I have to go. I’m meeting a friend. Talk to you later. Congratulations, again. I’m so fucking thrilled for you.