I don’t need to know what time it is that badly.

The prerequisite for being someone else is remaining yourself the whole time.

As we head into summer 2026, it’s eerily quiet at the ice cream shop on my block.

There’s a bench and micro-park at the corner.

With some caramel for the subconscious.

Recast as a night market.

If only Haydn’s BPM had slowed even more dramatically to the near-”Grave Lento” as well. There would be world peace.

While I’d remembered the wattage of the scene, I never actually remembered what it was about.

But then the narrator, who plays the part of an epic bard, ends chapter one with this delicate mic drop…

Shadows on the sides of ancient buildings and abandoned infrastructure

I wonder if you remember you told me

If I can get the melody and the bass working at the same time, I want people to stop telling me how hip the past is.

Her odes to the hope that despair stirs in the human heart.

I would definitely not go here on a first date. But it’s perfect for a third.

It was as ephemeral and unconcerned as an hour could be.

Give us coffeeshop moods rather than rock radio

Airports remind me of the Fertile Crescent.

I don’t know why. But the Bats were hanging around my algorithm this week.

The poignancy of riding the subway home high after the sweaty club with her former schoolmate bestie.

Like rearranging how you pack your suitcase rather than buying a bigger suitcase, affordable housing advocates should change the construction equation inside apartment buildings themselves.