“Smoke Hole Historic Marker” by Jimmy Emerson, DVM is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0 In the fall, we go camping; we drive for five hours to get to Smoke Hole, West Virginia, even though there are plenty of campsites around Baltimore, even though there are beach...
Photo by Charles Rispin / Welly Club, Beverley Rd, Hull / CC BY-SA 2.0 I want to tell the story about the two boys I saw at a Pigeon Detectives concert, stacked together like a totem pole, arms spread wide while the audience milled under them like clumsy, bumbling...
Which his father did when the balloon string slipped from his fingers. Which was weird. His father had never held his hand in public before. Years later he wondered if his father wanted to keep him that day from floating off, too. At the time, though, they stood...
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 Wangkun Jia / Shutterstock.com the same way the curvaceous tan can-can leg narrowing to a stiletto-ish tip in Magritte’s painting is not a pipe, especially when you look at it sideways, but mostly because, despite its trick of highlights, it lacks a dimension...
Photo by DrStew82, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons The stars swirled and kaleidoscopically multiplied over the field as we ducked down into our tent, an action that felt as effortful and mysterious as spelunking in an Icelandic cave. The tent’s inside was warmer...
