The Edge of Summer

Summer is moving steadily and surely towards autumn. We are right on the edge of it. The deep lush green of an unusually long, hot growing season is giving way to the blazing colors of countless sunsets. First it comes in fitful bursts: swathes of yellow, lashings of red, streaks of pink. Growing bolder and…Read more The Edge of Summer

On Art

As much as I love words and communicating, I have to admit, there’s more to life. Why can’t things just be? Why can’t you just do something because it’s fun or it just feels good? You don’t have to explain anything to anyone if it doesn’t concern them. In the popular wisdom of the day:…Read more On Art

Half Lives

It is early morning. The world is dark blue and cold. A thin pale line traces a horizon that wasn’t there a moment before when the earth and sky were merged in darkness. The sky lightens faster and faster, from a dove grey to the silver of vacant mirrors, rose-tinted edges rising up, spreading out…Read more Half Lives

Decent People to the End

Despite how problematic this story can be in our fraught media landscape seething with outrage and boiling with identity politics, it is the most urgent story. I am compelled repeatedly tell it—fresher, bolder, louder, its scope ambitiously greater than my tiny individual life.

Decent People

Despite how problematic this story can be in our fraught media landscape seething with outrage and boiling with identity politics, it is the most urgent story. I am compelled repeatedly tell it—fresher, bolder, louder, its scope ambitiously greater than my tiny individual life.

Portrait of the Artist

What are you afraid of? That they’ll see right through you? See through your farce? Your vain bid for importance? That no amount of effort will surmount the appraisal of your surface? Or insubstantialize your many failures and shortcomings? (In fact, make them all the more obvious.) That you will be deserving of neither attention…Read more Portrait of the Artist

Lasting Summer

My earliest memories make no logical sense, one moment I’m standing in a field of sugarcane, the next moment I’m with a flock of ladies in a churchyard, in another moment I‘m running up the front steps of home. The green cane stalks loom above me in my toddler height, bowing in the wind as…Read more Lasting Summer