Speaking of not shazaming, of trying to keep the moment pure, a truly mystical thing happened to us this morning. It started last night after the nightmare situation of walking our bikes in the pitch-black darkness, home from the Mosquito bar, there on the side of...
Photo:Kidfly182, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons It’s autumn when I move into a Brooklyn apartment with two dudes from California who wear tight pants and smoke Lucky Strike cigarettes. They ask if I’ve ever had French press coffee — I reckon they think people...
Photo by Jane Hammons The sun risen but still low, light falling on the llano eery, cloud buffed, not bright but clear. I have my good camera with me for the annual procession to Santuario de Chimayó and am tempted to pull over to shoot the roadside altars refurbished...
Photo: University of College / Shutterstock.com I hadn’t been there since I was a teenager.My father got free tickets from a DuPont salesman at the plant& we waited to hear Jeff Gordon talk about industrial paint before the race.Now, I’m waiting for something...
Photo by Tony Pacitti It was the perfect sort of August day that you don’t really get in Rhode Island. That sticky, soul sucking humidity that defines New England’s deepest dog days had lifted, and the haze-free, endless blue sky hosted just a handful of picture...
Photos by Ethan Jacobs The bookbag is a ruse, makes me look competent like I know where I’m going or what I’m doing. I don’t think anyone suspects I’m moving around with contraband: a stolen bundle of bed sheets that used to be white. By dawn, they were blotchy—red,...
