Photo by Mike Towber, Some rights reserved. for Michael Wells You tell me a staircase that leads to nowhere is your recurring dream just moments before you teach me the Welsh word hiraeth, and it’s as if you’ve used a magic spell: I now have that intense homesickness...
of loadbearing supports and span-riseratios. Of harmonic proportionsand Pythagorean mysticism. I couldn’t marvel at the bright shops jutting from the Ponte Vecchiowithout a lecture on ancient architectureand the ongoing perils of gravity. I couldn’t wonder aloud how...
We enter a palace room for a second time, the one where stags holdsome of my ancestors’ names. So many mouths, some little flies. Camera catch the pitch of my smug.You try not to spout. My wet crest. The stags on a ceiling of gilded pens. So a lens under my chin makes...
for Mary For fear of polio, as a child,I’d been made to wear a bathing cap,not allowed to get hair wet as I swam. But now here we were: Behind us a cliff,and before us water cascading down,an in-between space,like dusk or dawn. This was not a celebrated waterfall.And...
honestly? the thing is, it’s noteven nice here. I love it herebut it’s not nice – it’s distinctive.and I think if I’m honestthat I averaged happierin london and happier in torontoand much happier alsoin new york up therewatching manhattan...
I am walking in washington square parkit is busy the hawks arenot out everyone at NYU is graduating everyone at NYU is taking selfies inpurple robes the kids are smoking the kids are selling t shirts sewn out of other t shirtsthe kids are playing music so loud the...
