Locked Out
For eighteen years, I have been returning home, sliding that brass key into the lock, and stepping into comfort. Now I tense before I even try.
For eighteen years, I have been returning home, sliding that brass key into the lock, and stepping into comfort. Now I tense before I even try.
On Saturdays, my mom and I went shopping, and around three in the afternoon, I would ask, in a small plaintive voice, “Mom, did we have lunch today?”
Aw, you humans have been scared of tech forever, the AI says....
Prudentius offers “an ancient guide to not giving in.”
No other garment is as modest and erotic, humble and powerful, obvious and enigmatic.
Spies, revolutionaries, and film stars haunted the oldest cafe in Panama
Will we stop reading altogether? And what will we substitute, to deepen our souls?
You know how disconnected we have become when it takes a craze to remind us to go barefoot and feel the earth.
A spiritual pilgrimage we never expected.
Curmudgeons, you see, have standards. Sherlock Holmes could not abide being fooled, and Statler and Waldorf suffered no foolish puppets.