In House

"In House" is a weekly column featuring trawlings and reflections from our editors.

Image Courtesy of Creative Commons

April 17, 2017

After we are sworn in, the judge instructs us to stand if certain statements apply to us, and I’m surprised by what people will admit.

February 11, 2017

I was riding the F train home the other day reading Colson Whitehead’s The Underground Railroad. The local went express at Jay Street in Brooklyn, and I exchanged an exasperated smile with a woman on the platform.

Snow in N4

December 19, 2016

When my grandparents visited London in retirement, they were disappointed to find that the pub off Edgware Road had become a television store. For Henry and me, Edgware Road was a busy Lebanese area of shisha cafes and the best late-night shawarma, blending at its southern end with the posher neighborhoods surrounding Oxford Street. It is sometimes now called Little Beirut, or Little Cairo.

November 12, 2016

In seventh grade, your friend Megan invites you to go raiding, which means sneaking around in dark clothes and throwing feed corn on other people’s houses. 


November 8, 2016

When the cab I’m in reaches the chokepoint, I see a man lying on his back on the pavement, head to one side, the wheels of a stopped car inches away. ... When I pass a half an hour later, he’s still there, and traffic is backed up to the Boulevard François Mitterrand.

Photo by Creative Commons user PHOTOPHOB

October 1, 2016

Weeks later, on the last day of the Mayan calendar, you surprised me with a visit and said, “The world is supposed to end tonight: Do you want to spend it together?”

September 20, 2016

 At the Sunday market under the porticos of the town hall I find big blocks of white olive oil soap for sale amongst red and green peppers, eggplants, walnuts and figs.

Photo by Creative Commons user Peter Linehart

August 31, 2016

Of course, we knew no one on the island. The last ferry had gone.

Brussels, Belgium

July 25, 2016

I’m at an arts center in Brussels, waiting to see a movie and trying to look Belgian. Or at least not American. Or at least not like an American who’s here without purpose, floating through this city for a few days because, for the first time in many years, she happens to be in Europe.

Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user Saad Faruque.

June 11, 2016

We were displacing everything. All the pieces of life she’d brought with her, the markers of accomplishments, memories, incidental moments gathered along the way.

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