Summary:

I live in a New York borough, where there is a persistence of loudness and clamor. The nuances of social propriety run fluidly here and there, and all this I watch from the first floor of Charleston Building. I have a wonderful apartment in the building; rich and embellished with all accounts of affluence. After finishing my bachelors from Yale, I chanced city life and traveled to Columbia to pursue my doctorate. Economics and history are wonderful avenues. One teaches the lifeblood of modern livelihood and ostentatious happiness while the other cautions not to repeat the pathetic, criminalistic behaviors of the past. Both degrees, hanging on velvet-studded frames in the tea room, add an atmosphere of scholarly repute that complements nicely with the awkwardness of small-talk.