“Then you can paint tomorrow any color you want,” Uncle Kev tells me while in Chartres, circa 2004, while walking below the flying buttresses and stained glass windows of the Cathedral, when he points to the tolling bronze bells and says, “First watch the sounds of...
Photo by Petr Kovalenkov / Shutterstock.com Heads entwined, you read Duras’ The Lover while I peered over at the orange-eating, dowdy woman clutching her pearls across from us. Is she still looking at us?, you whispered out the side of your mouth. I nodded, gurning at...
Photo by nbnserge/ Shutterstock.com I’m sitting at a terminal in Charles de Gaulle Airport, wondering about the last time I washed my hands. It’s crowded and no one is making eye contact. I don’t know much about Charles De Gaulle, besides that he was a man in old...
