The Blanket by the River

The Blanket by the River

“Guys, come on. We’re late, we’re late!” I attempt to tie two shoes at once, the clock ticking, my children doing everything in their power to make us late for our train. “Mommy, where going?” asks my toddler, and I again reflect on the impossibility of getting two...
If you were here my love, you’d be all talk

If you were here my love, you’d be all talk

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...