The beauty Thomas and Spradlin identify in this city is not the architectural grandeur funded by steel robber barons, or city-sanctioned ‘aerosol art,’ but the interplay of the wall and the graffiti; the law and rejection of the law; the memorial and the refusal to pay homage to a memory.

If I write that Vivian Maier was a photographer, you'll misunderstand.

About 60 years ago I arrived home on the afternoon school bus to find several small sedans parked in our driveway.

Nothing to stand on, nowhere to be: the calving of an internal interval.

“Breathe normally,” the nurse says to me.

Maybe you’ve heard about the algorithmic racial bias in digital imaging technology.