Above: The Angels slew the Red Sox 11-0, but the score didn’t matter. Fenway is one of America’s great cathedrals. Being inside is always a religious experience for me. And a bad sermon can’t spoil the majesty of a truly sacred place. So, I say, “Take me out to that transcendent ball game. Let me be part of the crowd.”
Above: When the rains came late in the game, the crowd was parted in two: on the right there were those who were dry; on the left, those who loved so much.
Above: I often stand by these power meters while waiting to meet someone at Charlie’s Kitchen. Once inside, I always order the double cheeseburger with onion rings. When choosing seating, upstairs is better than downstairs; the beer garden is better than upstairs.
Above: The morning I left Israel was warm and wet. The rain was sudden and unsatisfying. Fortunately it did not delay our departure. From my window I spied on this security vehicle, whose presence, I assumed, guaranteed that my luggage would not be forgotten before we crawled onto the tarmac and sped five thousand miles home.
Above: This is the carnage wrought by my roommate after a recent trip to Haymarket to stock up on fruits and vegetables for the week. An empty glass cleaned of its delicious salsa verde contents stands sentinel over the garbage disposal, as small fruit bodies await their final, environmentally friendly demise.
I recently purchased my first digital camera. Following my friend Emma’s suggestion (and perhaps inspired a little by Emerson), I want to find one beautiful thing every day. Okay, so this picture was taken a week ago. But I like it. Try and keep me honest. I dare you.