In House

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

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.

Photo by Julia Lichtblau

May 17, 2016

Parker’s piece made me think not of abstractions like transitional objects, but of the time that old buildings represent in personal histories.

Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user Jason Hargrove

May 7, 2016

We have been told by the trampoline park’s welcome email to expect “a WOW! experience” as well as the possibility of death, a known risk for which we cannot sue.

Photo by Flickr Creative Commons user Union-Square

February 27, 2016

The experience of weather itself often feels cinematic. Weather simply descends, fixes us in a particular time and place, and moves on.

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