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Quiet Storm
Chelsea is now so horribly quiet, the city itself feels sick. The quiet before a hurricane or tornado, the sky green and boiling, the…
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We’re All Outside of the Wire
Thoughts From the New Epicenter of the Pandemic
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Reigniting Your Creativity: Allow Yourself to Wander
How wandering gave a jumpstart to my dormant creativity.
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A New York Slice
I was five, or six and we were visiting New York. My birth mother had passed away when I was three and my father had remarried. Barbara…
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The Last Trout
Saffron colored aspen lined the banks of the Willowemoc as it meandered, thin and blue, through the hemlocks of the Catskills. Dark-copper…
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The Meth of Mustard
“Mustard: Good only in Dijon. Ruins the stomach.” — Gustave Flaubert
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What Happened to the Food of My Youth?
Rant Warning: There are no solutions offered below.