I live in New York, but I'm gone 310, 320 days a year. My apartment is storage.
The Italian side of my family were gypsies, and we are little hard so-and-sos.
People say, 'Where do you live?' and I say that theoretically, I live in London, but basically that's just where I go to change my suitcase. Otherwise, I'm always flying somewhere.
I grew up all over the world. My dad was a doctor but not a career-type doctor. He was very curious, so he took the whole family and moved to Miami in the '70s, and we lived there for a couple of years. Then we continued like that and lived in various places around the world.
The lives of happy people are dense with their own doings -- crowded, active, thick. But the sorrowing are nomads, on a plain with few landmarks and no boundaries; sorrow's horizons are vague and its demands are few.
When I was a kid and the carnival would come to the shopping centre, I'd go down and talk to all the people running the rides. I like that whole lifestyle, moving from town to town in a nomadic existence.
I like the gypsy aspect of this business.
I lived a pretty chaotic life. I went to England, and I moved around, and there were a lot of things that I was interested in. I wrote poetry. I took photographs. I was a musician and all sorts of things. Nothing brilliant, but I did all these different things.
I think I was born with a suitcase.
In this primitive and abject state [of hunters and gatherers], which ill deserves the name of society, the human brute, without arts or laws, almost without sense or language, is poorly distinguished from the rest of the animal creation.
Everything I own can fit in two suitcases and a foot locker.
I basically live out of my truck - I mean from place to place. I feel more at home in my truck than just about anywhere, which is a sad thing to say, but it's true.
We collected in a group in front of their door, and we experienced within ourselves a grief that was new for us, the ancient grief of the people that has no land, the grief without hope of the exodus which is renewed in every century.
I'm really in no one city more than two months during the year. I'm constantly having to readapt my eye to new locations.
Most people that work in [show] business, if they're not gypsies by nature, become gypsies, just because of the reality of this business.
A kind of white people are found here, who live like savages. Hunting is their chief occupation.
Life goes on, unmindful of beginning, end…crisis or catharsis, moving forward like a slow, dusty caravan of kochis (nomads).
I'm never anywhere for more than three weeks.
Like most artists, I live out of a suitcase.
The life my people want is a life of freedom. I have seen nothing that a white man has, houses or railways or clothing or food, that is as good as the right to move in the open country and live in our fashion.
I wasn't really living anywhere... I was just kinda hanging out. I would live from week to week in places.
I've always considered myself to be a travelling soul. I've never felt out of place anywhere.
The way my life's structured, I don't stay in a place for more than a couple months.
My wife, Olivia, always thought I was one day going to go into coaching. But after playing until I was 37, I didn't want to subject my family to that nomad life. I think I definitely could have done it.
I'm single because I move about so much that I can't really get attached.
