The first time I stayed in New York City and took a summer course in ballet, (two classes a day) I stayed with Mrs. Graves. Mom figured I'd be happy and safe. Being the wealthy widow of one of my father's distinguished clients , MRS GRAVES OWNED ANAPARTMENT IN WASHINGTON SQUARE PARK and talked a lot about Life and Death--their thirty-year-old daughter was in the hospital for leukemia and not doing well. I learned BIG words from her, and street talk from her maid who fed me.
Alas, I was always hungry. Mom send me $7 week for food. At the automat I ate corn muffins and and leftovers . There was a market nearby at New York University. I selected fruit, squeezed it and put it back. Later I'd return, find the bruised fruit, hide it in one of my pockets, and gobble it up later.
I did a lot of walking but my feet were growing --my shoes were too small. .
I developed "'bitching corns" (the maid calls them that).
Actually living in the park, observing Greenwich Village inhabitants, I've become quite an expert in aggrandizing whatever I seriously crave.