It’s too early for questions…

As I was walking to work just now, some fellas beckoned me from their car window. “Whalley Ave.?” they shouted, barely slowing long enough for me to respond. But unbeknownst to them, this is a difficult question at the best of times. Whalley is one of those roads that changes names as it winds through ...

I’ve been reading on the train

There’s a fine art to reading and writing in public spaces. Nowhere is this truer than on a train. You must be able to concentrate even when the baby beside you is screaming. You need to block out the Yankees fans coming home from a win or loss. The jostling, the interruptions, the announcements—all of ...