I closed my computer and went for a walk. (Why did it feel like a radical act of resistance?) There was Yaron, the traveling concert pianist we’d met a couple of days before. There was Ellis, my endearingly moody boyfriend. And there was me. The three of us set out mid-morning for a trek up a nearby trail, on which we hoped for a lot of things: to make it to the lake, to avoid any grizzly encounters, to keep track of the trail—which wove in and out of snow covered hills—and to stay clear of falling trees, whistling as they were.
The Vanishing Third Place
The Vanishing Third Place
The Vanishing Third Place
I closed my computer and went for a walk. (Why did it feel like a radical act of resistance?) There was Yaron, the traveling concert pianist we’d met a couple of days before. There was Ellis, my endearingly moody boyfriend. And there was me. The three of us set out mid-morning for a trek up a nearby trail, on which we hoped for a lot of things: to make it to the lake, to avoid any grizzly encounters, to keep track of the trail—which wove in and out of snow covered hills—and to stay clear of falling trees, whistling as they were.