A few years ago, I wrote "Life, Death, and Lack of Closure," about a seemingly-inevitable trap of living life after becoming an inadvertent historian: that because inaction — the decision to not document something
I mentioned last time that Singapore's "gleaming architecture, wondrous glass-covered skyscrapers, and spotless streets" felt as if they were devoid of humanity. When I got to downtown Melbourne, I again found myself surrounded
It's one thing to say it. That infrastructure is a product of its place and its time. But it's something else to travel somewhere new, and to see combinations that you haven't seen
Part one of "pianissimo" argued that moving a piano is an art. With many works of art, there is a particular scene, or moment, or passage that comes to embody the greater work.
In the first day-two post, we got the tree down to a height short enough that we could fell the remainder all at once. All that was left was to make it happen.