Diary
Transitions
“It’s not the moves, it’s between the moves.” This was one of those offhand remarks that has stuck in my mind for at least twenty years. I remember
Am I still that person?
A few weeks ago, my friend and former jogging partner Ellen Sweet sent me this snapshot that she had just discovered while scanning old photographs into her computer.
Brooding
One morning last week when I was walking around the reservoir in Central Park with a friend we came upon these two ducks. The sight stopped us in
Reading the signs of spring in Manhattan
I’ve been trying to decide whether my negative feelings about being back in New York after a month at sea, well, by the sea, should be described as
Never can say good-bye….
I’m back home after 33 days of if not total bliss, daily doses of beauty on the Italian riviera, the part known as the “levante.” We all know
Paradise almost lost….
In a few days we will be leaving our beautiful temporary home, where even on stormy days the seascape that surrounds us is sublime. Now, after what seemed
Reading the signs in Bogliasco, continued
It continues to rain and the sun remains an iffy prospect, but there have finally been signs of spring. On the passeggiata there are buds and leaves where
Reading the signs in Bogliasco
Walking to and from the passeggiata, in and out of the tiny alleyways between the main road and the sea, I encountered these interesting examples of graffiti. The
Welcome. Some musings on my current preoccupations with the worlds of illness and the worlds of books: the vicissitudes of living with cancer and the need, for now, to launch (a k a promote) my new memoir, My Brilliant Friends: Our Lives in Feminism. Naturally, I inhabit both spaces, which makes for a strangely bifurcated, though far from boring, existence. Click to view both Feminist Friendship Archive and My Multifocal Life projects.