Joe Teti took a series of pictures of me on his roof a week before he died in his new apartment on Bank Street in Greenwich Village. The night he died, he said goodbye to me and apologized for not letting me stay longer. I said, “OK Joe, you have plans tonight. That’s cool.” He had tears in his eyes. As I was leaving a buddy of his was walking in. Apparently they shot up together and Joe died of an overdose. He had found out that week that his T-Cells were almost non-existent and his liver was failing. That year, I lost over 250 friends and acquaintances (ballpark figure). Joe Teti- I think of you often.