One Thread of the Same Tuesday

The people at home aren't waiting. They're living. The dog gets walked, the plumber finally shows up, and the day gets handed over like a baton. For everyone who works far from their own kitchen. [link]

A Place To Land

There is a sentence we say to people who are suffering, and we say it with the best of intentions. Be strong. Hold on. It sounds like advice. It isn't. It's a request, and almost always a request not to have to hold anything ourselves. The

Um Sítio Onde Pousar

Há uma frase que se diz a quem está a sofrer, e diz-se com a melhor das intenções. Sê forte. Aguenta-te. Parece um conselho. Não é. É um pedido, e quase sempre é um pedido para não termos de segurar em nada. O novo ensaio parte daí e

A Brief Absurdity #3

They woke in Las Vegas with no memory of the previous night, one missing shoe, a cat in the bathroom, and several receipts that suggested the evening had acquired momentum. Someone insisted there had been a plan. Nobody remembered the plan. The cat did.

Unfinished

The famous line promises an angel waiting in the marble. The corridor in Florence promises nothing of the kind. On the way to the David stand four figures that never came free — a torso twisting out of raw rock and stopping, a face half born and stopping, the chisel marks

A Brief Absurdity #2

Rodin's masterwork captures the moment of pure intellectual anguish — the weight of consciousness, the terror of choice, the confrontation with a universe indifferent to suffering, and a man on the couch who said "in a minute" at 2pm.

A Brief Absurdity #1

He floated like a butterfly. He stung like a bee. He needed help getting through the ropes. The other dog outweighed him by ninety pounds and made the usual mistake of confusing height with authority. By the fourth round, Paw-li was still barking. The other dog was no longer

The Dogs Were Already There

The joke, people assume, is that somebody put a dog into a painting where no dog belongs. Go and look. Van Eyck put a small dog at the front of the Arnolfini portrait in 1434, staring straight out at the viewer while the couple behind it join hands. Velázquez put

Whatever Survives the Walk Home

A thought feels like something you own. It isn't, not really. Most of them arrive on a walk or in a waiting room, half formed, and then dissolve into whatever needed doing next. Over the years I've lost far more of them than I've