So this morning I am talking to a friend in Hing Hay Park in the International District, next to a pagoda made in Shanghai. I'm in Hing Hay park. My friend is in Brooklyn. Somewhere in the ether between us communication occurs.
While I'm on the phone, a group of young people come up the street, with cymbals and drums. They stop at a flower shop, six of them dress up as dragons, and they set off firecrackers. I start to explain what must sound like gunfire and he breaks in "I understand. Happy New Year".
I think it is finally sinking in that I'm in a different century now.
No flying cars, though.
Sailing in Biscayne National Park - One early morning in late March of 2017, I urge Hitch to wake up with a nudge, “Get up. It’s sailing day!” My excitement feels silly; it’s not every day ...
3 hours ago