Notes on Home, Life, and Love


In between these meetings, we’ve created a space for us, just us, online: a portal through which that flow sustains. A borderless space that transcends geography, that exists somewhere only we can access.

Fleeting Love in the Time of Ambiguous Cinema, Part II


But here, on this earth, the seasons change. And somewhere along the way, I lost him. To this day, I don’t know how, I don’t know where, I don’t know to whom, and I don’t know why.

But all that is irrelevant, as two more summers have come and gone. The only thing important to note: He was not the one.

Fleeting Love in the Time of Ambiguous Cinema, Part I


And so I walked home. Part of me had wanted to say I did yearn for a summer love affair. But if I was to have a true love affair, it was going to be with Montreal, not a man.


Love. Park Slope, Brooklyn. 2010.

There existed between them a suggestion that something that had shaped them before they met had primed them to become something close to soul mates. It was one of those assurances that hinted there was a little more order to the world than you thought, and made it a less lonely place to live in. —Christopher Rice, The Snow Garden A quote I had scribbled in one of my journals years ago. Still powerful, still relevant. The optimistic half of me believes this completely.

A Triptych on Hieronymus Bosch, Love, and Madrid

Atocha Station

As a whole, The Garden of Earthly Delights is cohesive: the chaos, ultimately, makes sense. The first time I looked at it, in my art history class in high school, I was perplexed—even uneasy. Since then, this painting has become a metaphor for how I put things together, as a memoirist and thinker.

Autumn. Friends. Love.

San Francisco Underground, Muni.

My dear friends, Ann and Steve, are getting married next October. They asked me to take engagement photos this past weekend in San Francisco. There’s no better way to spend a sunny Saturday, and it’s wonderful to be around a young, spirited couple obviously and truly in love.