The Family Store is the best Mediterranean food you can get in New York City. That is all.

I have old friends in San Francisco who grudgingly tell me that the High Line is everything that's wrong with New York. Well, too bad. To me, it embodies a culture that's constantly reinventing itself: a defunct elevated railway that was becoming a burden to the city ("we used to climb up there to throw garbage bags full of rotting Korean food at the Hasids!", noted a successful photographer's assistant) becoming a startling example of urban greening for the public good. The expert landscaping makes it feel like walking on a Montauk beach - but a stone's throw from some of New York's most progressive galleries and hotels.

I came alone and walked up an unassuming flight of stairs to the second floor that opened onto a narrow hallway with a reception desk. Before arriving at the Room, I could already sense the rich smell of damp earth that permeated the space.

I keep going there when I miss my friend Aggeliki. We meet on the line waiting to watch Martha Marcy May Marlene. I just arrived in NYC, I remember we both were in the same situation. We became very close since that day.

It’s photographer Jay Maisel’s studio building on the Bowery. The fact that he hasn’t sold out to the manic gentrification of everything in New York is even cooler. Makes me happy that the whole place is covered in piss stains and graffiti when everything around it is all polished and shiny and expensive. It’s like a giant middle finger raised to those disgusting, bloodthirsty, city-raping real-estate developers. Awesome.