Microscopic Word

Anything I can not transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn’t impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary

When my son was about four years old, there was a pigeon with a bum wing walking around our townhouse parking lot. The conversation went

Growing up, summer meant Sanibel Island—old Sanibel, with the wooden beach houses with screened-in porches, where you were really and truly steps to the beach.

Last week I saw the Michel Gondry film, Mood Indigo. Very French, very strange and wildly inventive. There’s a flying plastic cloud car that floats