You are in my marrow, downtown. I love the first light of the skyscraper that is my tall neighbor in the morning darkness like I love the setting sun. I will miss the hiddenness of this place, the easy anonymity, the strangers who are friends in the minute on the…
I don’t often talk about faith matters here. It’s not like I could be canceled—my digital footprint is about the size of an ant—and a breadcrumb trail to the table is more winsome than standing in the road shouting that a banquet has been prepared. But it is Sunday and…
I’ve just spent the past several months in a wormhole of dizzying deadlines. Call it serendipitous, or by the hand and divine interests of the Creative Director of our lives, pages of story are tacked to all the walls of that underground place. There is the very high word count…
Someone asked me what happened to Juliet Rome. Musing about beauty seems small and inconsiderate in the context of a border crisis, new global tensions, civil unrest and more discordance than I’ve seen in my lifetime. They are a dark subtext for pretty words. From our tree house I watch…
My heart feels loss this morning, so I’ll celebrate him while he’s still alive. Thinking of him, I asked J. if he would call him a renaissance man. Yes, I think so. He had many interests and did a lot of things. Jars and jars of homemade pear-honey jam. Inspired,…
Me, inspired by an Instagram post: I’d like to enjoy a hot drink inside a greenhouse. J: Go do it. Me: Can’t. Have too much work. J: Oh, stop being so German. I’ve been thinking about my life under the cloche and how we all default to a space. My…