I was ambivalent about NYC when I moved here in 1998. Figured five years would be my maximum--proving that I could do it before moving on to some place quieter.
This little arm was the start of my countdown clock. I decided that when the streets of New York had gifted me with enough doll parts to create a mini-Frankenstein, I would know it's time to leave.
I've since found an action figure's right leg, a Barbie or equivalent tennis sneaker, a wrestler's head. Still have a way to go. The little horse is just along for the ride.