The cold, clear mornings are a shock after days of drizzle and fog; the city bustles in poofy jackets and turns her heaters high. The long winter has begun ( Read more... )

Mid-November. Looking forward already to this holiday season, the window displays, the drift of snow in streetlamps, coziness.

"I have already lost touch with a couple of people I used to be," wrote Joan Didion in Slouching Towards Bethlehem. I sit now in a kitchen faded to night, and think about the years. I forgot to mark, in this place, my ( Read more... )

The trees behind my apartment have begun to shed their leaves; I can now see straight through to the apartments around the block. The skyline is different. This is how my winter begins, learning what it's like to be laid bare.


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