It started in Stamford and I do wish I had photographic evidence, if only to document the expansion. The Manga collection started early. If the kid had ten dollars, the kid had another book. In the Weston attic we left... Read more →


A face to shatter a mother's heart and most days fold her soul in half. I don't know what the world sees, but it can't possibly miss the vulnerability. That one moment in a series of photographs, the sort of... Read more →


There is a small stone house on the corner of Columbus and Saratoga, unoccupied so long neither Nina or April can remember when it wasn't just empty, sitting on the corner like that. Whoever owns it now has been trying... Read more →


I think we were in Donegal because that's where I got my jacket and I only recall spending that much money in one place. I know we were looking for them, both the linens and the jackets, and there they... Read more →


The original timestamp on The Red Umbrella (and the light) is August 13, 2020 which has caused a dip into the well of cognitive dissonance this morning. The post was written forty-eight hours after I'd put my affairs in order... Read more →


Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →


There are not many photographs of Elizabeth and me after she was eight. There wasn't anyone to take them for the most part and I'm not big on selfies. However, there is this and it tells all you need to... Read more →


I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →