My endless fascination with two people taking photos at the same time continues. In Ireland, as I was snapping photos, Wil was doing the same (albeit more competently, with an eye for composition and light and all those other things that photographers understand and I do not). Here’s my photo, taken on the side of…
Durham felt familiar somehow. Neither of us had ever been there before, but the streets weren’t foreign to us. When the light of the setting sun hit a row of brick buildings it felt like a memory, like a painting by Hopper I’d seen long ago and forgotten about. Rand made me run to catch the…
Believe me when I tell you, as unlikely as it sounds, that we did it out of love. In the end, anyway. When it started, it wasn’t quite that. It wasn’t that we didn’t love Tim; we do, we did, we probably always will, for his genuine enthusiasm at everything, for the cadence of his laugh, for…
I was in Oklahoma when the news of the attacks on Paris broke, but my heart and mind have been in the City of Light ever since.
We went to Ireland with our friends Wil and Nora, their son Rio, and the amazing Emily, nanny-extraordinaire (she also helped take care of me and Rand, which was nice). I took these photos on a rainy day while we walked around Cork. They simultaneously made my uterus explode, and also made me think that…
We later reasoned that the costumes were probably there for kids, and not for us. The display in the lobby of the Royal Shakespeare Theater didn’t explicitly say this, but it was implied in the wording of the sign which cheerfully implored us to try on the clothing of Shakespeare’s time, punctuated by far too…
October 2010. Sofia, Bulgaria. I call my expression in this photo “adoringly demented.” Because it is. July 2015. Oxford, England. Notice that: I continue to wear earrings the size of salad plates. I have managed to tone down the “I am going to eat your skin” crazy face. Rand has inexplicably gotten handsomer.
Milan doesn’t really feel like Italy. It lacks the craziness of the south, the noise and chaos that flows through my veins and feels like home. But it is lovely nonetheless. Here is the Duomo in the sunlight.
I complain about the inclement nature of Seattle in March, but I didn’t think twice when we arrived in Bavaria and found that there was still snow on the ground. One morning, when I felt the madness that only jet lag can bring, and found myself bouncing around our hotel room like a hummingbird on…
Tales of Food, Feminism, and Fury
by Geraldine DeRuiter
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