It may have rained last night. The air is damp and cool this morning. The streets are quiet, the way Sunday morning streets tend to be. I made a meal of cauliflower soup and fresh Sicilian strawberries that I purchased
From the previous tenant in my tiny little apartment on Rue Barberis, I have inherited six eggs, a large rind of soft cheese the size of the palm of my hand from wrist to the tip of my middle finger,
The polar vortex kept me from flying out of New York for another three days the beginning of this month. Now that I live in Seattle, I’m back to being appreciative of snowy weather. On the first day of the
I only seem to feel like writing when I’m ill. Crippled by food poisoning, I’ve been curled in my hotel bed all day. I’m in Luang Prabang, Laos right now, but I have no idea what the town looks like.
April 3rd We’re passing through the south of Italy by train, a grueling, patience-testing ten and a half hour ride. Our second class train tickets have bought us two worn blue seats by the window. Technically, of course, I didn’t
So, I definitely created that title before I decided to google it and realized that it’s actually (1) a song by Tupac and (2) supposed to be “California Love”, not “California Lovin’”. I could have sworn there was a song called “California
“Love,” her doctor assured her, “is a very popular word.” She sat in the office with its impersonal tan walls and medical equipment—here is that funny thing that squeezes your arm to take your blood pressure, here is the stethoscope,