Category Archives: France
by Jenna Griffin | Oct 10, 2017 |
I learned to love the fall, to really love it, at the foothills of the French Alps, in October, two months after my friend drowned in Lake Michigan.
by Andrew Knot | Sep 16, 2017 |
These three things struck me about the way Gopnik writes about place. Perhaps they contain a few lessons that will help us in writing about where we’re from, where we are, and where we’re yet to go.
by Catherine Kramer | Feb 13, 2017 |
0734:
Bobby pin located by companion, lock picking commenced. She picks. I pick. The lock is deemed unpickable.
by Katie Van Zanen | Feb 10, 2017 |
Last fall, my much-delayed Megabus dropped me off in Chinatown at 2:30 a.m. I had seven percent battery life, four dollars in cash, and no idea how to get to Brooklyn.
by Caroline (Higgins) Nyczak | Dec 7, 2015 |
I am having a conversation in broken English outside a bar with a man named Matthieu. He brought up the attacks before I did, which is good, because I was terrified to bring it up, and not even sure if I should. “You are from New York, so you understand,” he explained.
by Catherine Kramer | Sep 13, 2015 |
So we turned our backs on the ocean and found one of the last things we expected to find on the beach in France: a ping pong tournament.
by Gabe Gunnink | Jul 20, 2015 |
There was, however, mingled comfort and horror in knowing that if I hadn’t packed it, a Speedo vending machine was available in the lobby.
by Gabe Gunnink | Jun 20, 2015 |
There is security in thinking that I don’t own a gun or make prejudicial proclamations to my friends or have a backwoods-y bowl-cut. If I can see a villain, I can know I’m not one.
by Bart Tocci | Jun 9, 2015 |
…Now what?, we wondered. Do you buy a bumper sticker or put a note up on Facebook? (Not that those are bad things, but they sure seem to fall short.)
by Sabrina Lee | Jun 3, 2015 |
The people whom we admire immensely, whom we rely on earnestly, turn out to be merely people. They don’t know everything; they can’t do everything; They let us down.
