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Painting badly (sort of) on purpose

Many years ago, I was visiting my family in San Francisco, and my nephew, then small enough to fold up in my lap like a little frog, frustratedly told me he didn’t like a particular video game because he wasn’t any good at it. In my older, frog-holding...

Fever Dreams, Painting Badly

Laying in bed in a feverish haze, thank you science, my overreactive immune system (and a 3rd Pfizer shot), I snuggled deeper into a pile of blankets and duvets in the warm Chilean summer temperatures that would normally have me using just a sheet or at most, a single...

On sewing, nostalgia and the challenges of the day

Way back in a recess of my mind I am sitting in the backyard on East 19th Street in Brooklyn and it is early summer. My grandmother is sitting in one of those woven beach chairs with the light aluminum frame, like the one she uses when she sits out in front of her...