On New Houses

American houses – at least, the American houses I’ve lived in – are oddly laid out. There’s no entrance area, for a start. There’s the front door, and it opens directly out into the living area. I like a transition from outside to in – like a decompression chamber between the outside world to my … Continue reading On New Houses

On Narratives

I suspect, although I can’t prove it, that we’re the only species that tells each other stories. I’d love to imagine Mother Wolf telling the cubs tales of great hunts back in the day; one seagull entertaining another with anecdotes of his adventures in the annual migration; one mountain goat getting a cheap laugh among … Continue reading On Narratives