July 4, 2026
I thought I was excavating the ruins of America. It took me years to realize I was excavating my own.
June 5, 2026
The feeling is always the same.
March 13, 2026
Why “us vs. them” is powered by proximity.
January 28, 2026
What Wisconsin taught me about being somewhere specific.
January 25, 2026
A corner in Minneapolis. A story that stays with you.
January 20, 2026
What the noise is covering up.
January 19, 2026
How conscience survives when truth is negotiable.
November 6, 2025
Hunger and America's moral budget.
October 25, 2025
How to stop missing your life.
October 22, 2025
The raw history of being unwanted.
October 7, 2025
Destructive amnesia and the true cost of rebuilding America.
September 17, 2025
On the eve of 250 years, what are we actually celebrating?
June 9, 2025
Thirty homes. Three continents. One question.
May 7, 2025
I didn't set out to find America; maybe I was trying to find myself.
May 6, 2025
What 2.5 years in 30 places taught me about staying.
Essays written from the road, tied to the cities visited along the way. Grouped by place rather than by date.
September 14, 2026
Walking South of Broad, I began furnishing a house I did not own — and found the fantasy of staying was never quite separate from the arithmetic of leaving.
September 14, 2026
A wristband I didn't know I needed, a family in front of me, and a conversation about masonry, Cuba, and the houses South of Broad that lasted the whole game.
September 13, 2026
The same Casco Viejo street, morning, storm, and night — and what it meant to watch one view hold three different conditions without ever repeating itself.
September 12, 2026
An Uber into the rainforest near Gamboa, a driver who asked the question I hadn't adequately considered, and a walk among hummingbirds and leaf-cutter ants while he waited.
September 9, 2026
A café, a grocery store, a familiar walk — and what it means to build a small, temporary routine in an enormous city.
September 9, 2026
Climbing Monserrate on foot in jeans, and what the city looked like from the top.
September 9, 2026
Four miles to the Bogotá Botanical Garden, a bee on a pink flower, and what having somewhere to walk gave an unanswered afternoon.
September 9, 2026
Joining a Copa América watch party without a jersey, an invitation, or perfect Spanish.
September 8, 2026
An afternoon inside Waite Phillips' Italian Renaissance villa and the gardens surrounding it.
September 8, 2026
Walking the streets of Black Wall Street, and the distance between a number in a chronology and a place you can cross on foot.
September 8, 2026
At the Bob Dylan Center and the Woody Guthrie Center, the finished songs were less interesting to me than the crossed-out words that came before them.