I recently gave away my chair after it cracked, and I think a little part of me cracked, too. I remember buying it when I went thrifting for furniture shortly after moving to Seattle and finding a new place. I didn’t own any furniture, nor did I have many belongings with me. I felt weary […]
It was six years ago, to this day, that I ventured beyond the plains and into the mountains out west; to this place as dynamic as my twenties have been thus far. Lately, the redundancy of a second pandemic winter has left me restive. Novelty is revitalizing, and feels all the more precious as parts
The small hometown izakaya where I worked the summer before college was not as popular as the other Japanese restaurants in the region. The sushi was nice. The takoyaki was satisfying. The ambiance was quaint. But there was one item that set it apart from the competition: kamonabe, the family-sized duck hot pot. Kamonabe was
Large towers shot above the flat dry land around us, offering modest shade from the big open sky. Everything here seemed big: the towers; the city grid; its streets and parking lots. A seemingly quick jaunt across the city center was better traveled by light rail. Short walks became longer than anticipated, and in that
I hopped on the L and dashed around the Loop, chasing any and all sunset city views that I could find. It had been so long since I last walked amongst crowds spilling over crosswalks, and I swooned at this urban Americana booming with life. In quarantine, I had longed to wander a big, bustling