After reading “My Family’s Slave,” Alex Tizon’s story in the Atlantic, my mind has been a cauldron.
Spring snapshots from around Nashville, Tennessee.
iPhone snapshots of an early winter vacation on Hawaii, or the Big Island.
An end-of-summer visit to the Neon Boneyard in Las Vegas, in haiku and photographs.
Ziplining on the mountains of Whistler in British Columbia, Canada.
As I prepare for my company’s annual meetup, I revisit my past flash talks and (not surprisingly) amass a list of abandoned topics for my next one.
Notes on editing, writing, and working — and a Q&A with writer Richard Gilbert, who recently published “Why I Hate My Dog” on Longreads.
A collection of door images from around the world, from Macau to Malta and Granada to Lisbon.
A week in Oregon, including Portland, Multnomah Falls in the Columbia River Gorge area, and Bend and the Deschutes River.
I started to hear the beat differently; I didn’t identify it with the face of a guitarist, drummer, or violinist — it transformed into the actual voice of the technology the DJ manipulated, and it talked to me, shapeless and mysterious, so I could mold it however I wanted.