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I'm seated on the balcony of a cafe overlooking a rice field. It's a soft blue day in Canggu, Bali, an easy-going beach town filled with open-air bars and trendy hotels. Since hitting the road six weeks ago, I've been on a journey that's taken me around the world. My first stop was New York City, a place I called home for 13 years. Two weeks in the city left me feeling turned inside out in all the right ways.
As I write this, I am seated at a coworking space in Canggu, Bali. I’ve been on the road for 44 days now. Last week I worked out of art studio in Berawa, a hip little town at the edge of Canggu along the southern coast of the island. I would wake up each morning at my hotel (a tired, but well-located complex on the beach, with a room overlooking the Indian Ocean), walk up the road to grab breakfast, then settle into long days of painting and drawing in the studio.
It's been a month since I said goodbye to London for a 6-week journey that has taken me to opposite sides of the world. My first stop was New York City, a place I called home for 13 years. I stayed with a friend in Boerum Hill, Brooklyn, a short walk from Brooklyn Bridge Park and its view of the cityscape of Manhattan. It was as close to going home can be for me and I cherished the two weeks. From there, I hopped a plane to Bali, Indonesia where I've been since the beginning of the month.