Thinking back to the Cuban refugees, I have also been pondering our own situation these days and past. Sure, Marie and I have been living our lives for years like Formula One drivers on the Monaco race track, through an urban tangle of chicanes and tight turns, high-speed stretches, blind corners and narrow roads, heel-and-toe shifting, split-second…Details
After commenting rather cynically in my last post about the reasons that make some people run, I thought it would only be fair to document the “other side”. So last Sunday I stood on a Fifth Avenue sidewalk for an hour and a half as marathoners flowed through kilometer 35, headed down towards Central Park…Details
The Zipcar is dirty. Again. Its seats are stained and you sit down uneasily. The windshield reluctantly shows you the world through a slightly foggy film embedded with fingerprints, the ghost of multiple GPS-mount suction bites, and nicotine. But behind you is a full load of camera gear and picnic goodies in an open handbag. Thinks are…Details
This is a repost of a series of stories the first of which was written in 2008. I have revised it and completed it and added some pictures. It will now be part of the new “Little Cayman Chronicles”. This will be a nostalgic series. The photos are very old, most taken with a 2-megapixel point-and-shoot. Sigh.…Details
Marie saw two of them in territorial fights on Saturday, I found one on Sunday, and by the time we were picnicking in the garden on Monday after work, on a strangely dull and almost milky late-afternoon, the hummingbirds appeared to have abandoned New York City in search of healthier southern climates.