Mackenzie Schmidt / Lonny
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A colleague once argued to me that what makes you a "real" New Yorker isn't having lived in the city for ten years (as is the widely accepted measure), but instead, having a window sill stuffed with house plants in various stages of demise. The daintier ones met their end long ago and only the heartiest, scraggliest, and miraculously regenerative remain. It was certainly true of my sad display.