PRESENCE | AUGUST 2018
One of my earliest memories is being picked up at nursery school, and telling my dad I hadn’t slept at nap time. “I was thinking instead,” I said. “What about?” he asked. “Wars,” I answered. “And hospitals.” Read more.
SURPRISE | APRIL 2015
Several mornings a week, my roommate Jamie wakes up at 3. “When your alarm goes off that early,” she said to me recently, “it feels like there can only be some sort of disaster happening.” In the dark, she takes a near-empty train to midtown Manhattan where she spends the next three hours erecting towering floral installations of grevillea and quince and Japanese Lindera at The Modern, a Michelin-starred restaurant at MoMA. By the time she leaves at 7:30, New Yorkers are crowding train platforms in bleary-eyed droves, and Jamie, already awake for hours, has forged a complete indoor wilderness with her hands. Read more.
ROTATIONS | MARCH 2015
“Six months have passed, and you have a whole new life,” I said. “How did that happen?” He shrugged, shooing ants from the blanket’s edge. “I asked for it,” he said. Read more.
HEARD | MAY 2015
One night weeks ago, I went to a show at an apartment in Bed-Stuy that, I was told upon arrival, was haunted. Its cheerful tenant, who wore a leather jacket and carried a tray of crudite, relayed this information with a lighthearted roll of the eyes. “When we moved in, we found hair in the oven,” she said brightly. Read more.