I love words.
April 8th, 1979 - 11.32am
I was nineteen when a numerologist told me that – because of the day and time I was born – I would never be lucky with love or money.
Back on Track
Halfway through last Monday, I realized I’d missed the self-imposed deadline for my weekly reflection, with no time during the week to pour my thoughts on even that in the mold I’ve created for them.
Compass
Last year, I began reading the transcript of the Nuremberg Trials. I haven’t finished that project yet.
On Their Shoulders
In a world that needs to be reminded to honor our mothers, fathers and partners, it’s not surprising that we need an official day to celebrate women.
Recalibrate
Time is going too fast. So much is happening, and at the same time, nothing is happening at all.
Like a Blizzard
Unless you have an Instagram feed less spiritually flavored than mine, you know that we’ve entered the Year of The Fire Horse.
Writer's Weekend
Writing is a daunting thing.
Sub-Zero
While a snowstorm hit New York two weeks ago, I basked in a balmy London. Its ten-degree Celsius weather almost felt offensive to the coats and sweaters I’d packed.
Belated
80% of people give up their New Year’s resolutions by February. I almost was a statistic.
London Takedown
I’ve dodged flues, coughs, and stomach bugs for months, but eventually everyone’s luck runs out.
Queen Of the Castle
On the day Queen Elizabeth passed, as the Royal Family hurried to Balmoral, I sat on a packed, squeaky commuter bus in sweltering Manhattan, on the phone with my dad.
Streets of London
I’ve always had a soft spot for the UK.
Resolutions Revisited
I had zero expectations last January, but it’s safe to say that 2025 derailed, pivoted or sidetracked in ways even Nostradamus couldn’t have predicted.