I am fascinated by tiny, incremental changes, almost imperceptible shifts in how people orient themselves in the world, because those are in some ways the most hopeful.
First time away from the baby, and the world is a strange new place. Before leaving, I spent an acid-without-the-acid-esque few days contemplating the tiny faux-hawked nipple-sucker perched atop E’s monstro breast.
In September of 1932, just hours after his uncle’s funeral, twelve-year-old Ray Bradbury was walking down the familiar streets of Waukegan, Illinois when he spotted a carnival tent on the…