Marco Polo visits Jersey.

Google's plans to photograph the world.

My friend James is soft-spoken; he talks instead of screaming and whispers instead of talking.

Rarely is one so revised by experience, which like a river washes away the calcified sand of the soul to describe itself there anew. Rare, too, is the ability to recognize this revision.

One time in Costa Rica my friends Laura and Tiffany and I trespassed through a farm to a nice little waterfall in the middle of the rainforest. It was fun to be in the rainforest without supervision.

The Church of Scientology New York stands right in the center of New York’s Theatre District on West 46th Street. The building blends into the glitzy fare, as loud in its own right as its neighbors—such mainstays of the famously fabulous New York theater scene as In the ...

Last night, the carrier rocket sent a special container with the sacred symbols of Turkmenistan: the flag and the unique philosophical work by Saparmurat Niyazov, Ruhnama, to the near-earth orbit from the Baikonur space center. Ruhnama is a messenger of space and good. It delivers clandestine, interesting facts from the ...

If you haven’t seen The Hurt Locker yet, don’t. Watch Groundhog Day instead; it’s much better, and it will also give you a far better sense of what the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are like. That’s not an original thought; soldiers at various bases in ...

After my brother’s ten-minute soliloquy on Karl Popper, I had lost track of his connection with George Soros or Georgia.

One night in Kyoto, a friend and I ended up in a room the size of a small Princeton double, drinking beer with two blond-coiffed Japanese men who, despite their doting, seemed anxious for us to leave. The place, called “Athena”, was a host club — a lounge where female clients pay for an all-you-can-drink bar menu and an hour or two of conversation with a well-dressed male attendant.