I didn’t do it, I didn’t move to San Niccolò.  After two days of dragging stuff there and cleaning furiously, all I wanted to do was cry every time I walked in the door.  It was more like a filthy cell in a wonderful neighborhood.  But I would have had to start from scratch, as the girls there don’t even have a mop.  After all of the trouble of this whole thing, I have decided to stay where I am for the moment.  Cazzatore will be moving out soon, and then I will navigate my way through a life spent battling ghosts.  I live in a big, cheap apartment with people I already know, and with the ability to have guests over and not worrying about them physically fitting into the space, or the smell that comes from a dirty place.  Sometimes the neighborhood just isn’t enough.