Pickles is dead. About two weeks ago, my daughter-in-law found her unresponsive in her cage. Although she was only two, that’s roughly the life expectancy of a hamster—which is what Pickles was. She had been a breeding hamster and was… Read More ›
Most years I latch onto something that resembles a resolution, or at least an idea—a framing, if you will, of the plot lines of my life. Typically, I choose something that’s a cross between delusional aspiration and hare-brained scheme. (Ex…. Read More ›
Scores of people get off the train from Paris at Moret-Veneux-Les-Sablons. Most, I notice, are carrying the international symbols of tourism—a camera and a bottle of water. Since I’m not quite sure what I’m doing, this is hopefully a sign… Read More ›
If you’ve never heard of Bay City, Michigan, raise your left hand like you are about to recite an oath—palm facing away from you, thumb to the right. Your hand is now a map of the lower peninsula of Michigan…. Read More ›
When I think back about Tbilisi, I may remember fat, green figs ripening on trees; wooden balconies decorated with elaborately carved lattice work that often dangled precariously; an abundance of cat and anti-Russian graffiti painted on doors and drab concrete… Read More ›
The World In Between 