I love playing on these red clay tennis courts. It feels like playing in Europe. I either drive my car and park right next to the courts or bike up River Side Park.

The Home Depot is one of the first things I saw when the taxi brought me at the place where I live now in NYC. I am renting a room in an old feather factory, which the owner build into a very cozy loft with rooms, common places and studios over the last 12 years. The Home Depot is a massive construction store, one of the leading ones in the US if you can say something like that about construction stores...You ll find them everywhere in the states as well as in my backyard and you can even follow them on Facebook. In general everybody in Bed Stuy complains about the Home Depot, because the employees are grumpy, lazy and never know anything when you ask them for something.

This is the rooftop of my building. I come up here daily with my dog or friends to get 'fresh' air, see what's happening in the streets, or to catch sunsets and the occasional sunrise. My landlord has been trying for months to put a stop to our rooftop access, but every attempt he has made thus far has been futile.

I have been watching this house deteriorating and transforming for years. I shot this last summer and was completely captivated with how many shades of luminous green vines had taken it over. If you want to see this house you better go quickly---it is supposed to be demolished by March 1 2012.

It starts when a friend implores you to eat downstairs at La Esquina, the subterranean brasserie branch of Derek Sanders's Mexican axis of Kenmare Street. The food’s cheaper and probably better at the walk-in-only cafe around the corner from the restaurant’s entrance—a door disguised by a taqueria counter and a sign that reads “Employees Only”—but there’s a certain category of New Yorker who thrives on having what others don’t. A reservationist will ask you if you’ve “dined with us before,” and in general, it takes knowing someone in the industry, smooth talking, or (velvet-rope flashback) looking good and confident at the door, to waltz in at prime time. The reward is dining in a Mexican dungeon as styled for a Vogue shoot, complete with metalwork, distressed stone walls, and water dripping on the back of your neck (though the owners can probably thank the air conditioner for the added atmospherics). Making up the grinning crowd at secluded booths and in private cells (?): a healthy mix of models, cougars, and maybe John Mayer picking his way through red snapper ceviche, cauliflower and avocado taquitos, grilled octopus tostados, or a plate of tuna tartare with a tamarind glaze. If the food sounds light, you’re right; it’s playing to the delicious crowd.  This is, what "The New Yorker" wrote about this fantastic place!