Photo by Boston Public Library / CC BY-NC 2.0 We show our love by slurping oysters, three dozen to be exact—two dozen raw and unadorned, a dozen served “dirty,” splattered with sour cream, red onion and red lump caviar. All doused with lemon and Tabasco. Dad and I are...
Less than 100 yards down the sloughthis swamp’s so thick it’s easy to imagine a world where carsdon’t exist, where a breeze is worth more than gold.The water under your boat, the mess of palmettos lining the shore,the bald cypress blocking sun— everything, all of it,...
Pull your boat up to the shore here nowwith hundreds of pelicans in flight above the island, their nests scatteredin the mangrove bushes all over this place, and you’d never guessit was a ghost of itself five years ago, just a ring of stone with barely enoughgrass to...
My feet are cold. They remind me of that one week in Iowa. I look at my feet. I don’t like to think about that week in Iowa. It was not a good week in Iowa. I keep looking at my feet. They are covered in cotton—frayed and tubed. I can feel every inch of me forgetting...
On a marble bench in Villa Borghese, Rome glowing in its June glory, the boy tells the girl this is not the right time, his school year abroad is only about to start. She knows, of course, but it’s only now she’s found the courage. Now, after 9 months of...
Let’s say that not long after Prince Orsini returned home from years at war, his wife, Giulia Farnese, passed away. Let’s say instead of building her an austere family tomb, Orsini commissioned a sculpture garden full of monsters and mythical beings for her ghost to...
