He’s old, Stieglitz is, when I’m looking at this photograph in my dining room. It’s one hundred and forty-three years since he was born, but he’s still hunched over his desk in his little, crowded gallery like he was when … Read More
At that age we took our fascination in the lot of the adult world. Through the peers we put to turmoil – musky boys of brashness or slighted vigor, and the balmy girls, the sweet or mousy, the striving harlequins – we accessed the quiet amblings of their mothers and their fathers.
I think I might love you. Sorry. I didn’t think so until last week. It was Friday. I was driving up I-87. I hadn’t thought of you all day, all week. The trees lining the highway had lost their leaves … Read More
The grass is trimmed like my father obsesses over. It’s green as Heineken bottles, as my mother’s eyes when shining with tears, and the white lines that frame it up and down stand out like Claire’s porcelain skin at Ricky’s son’s baptism.
Avatar has received so much hype that it is difficult to get close to anyone who is now basking in its success. Difficult, however, does not mean impossible. Join us as the Nassau Weekly sits down with Sebastian from The … Read More
When I catch sight of my stitches in periphery, I think they are hairs growing out of my wrist, like black wiry hairs growing out of a mole or on the jaw lines of women. Then I think of Marie, … Read More
I told the army that my father was abusing my mother and that I had to stay home to protect her. This girl whose job it was to check out these kinds of things arrived at our apartment. It was … Read More
When I was fifteen, when my hair was growing down past my collar and my face was fixed into a jaded smirk, Mom and Dad decided it was time to get out. Out of the city; out of sinful, glorious … Read More