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Jungle

The most interesting thing about South Florida is its precarious hold on civilization – a constant tug-of-war between the lawn mower and the strangling vine. I love it here in spite of this and because of this. You can never really relax, even though the Department of Tourism calls out for you to come here […]

Federal Highway

The Dadaists would have loved Route 1. In this part of Florida we call it Federal Highway, which makes it sound starchy and solemn. But it’s not. At all. In a way, it’s a mess here, all mismatched strip malls and empty lots, broken concrete, abandoned shops, car dealerships, billboards, with confusingly brand-new Italianate town […]

Sunday along the St. Lucie

In this part of Florida, the southeast, you have to go north to go South. Up Interstate 95, where the back ends of industrial parks and salvage yards trail off into open fields and where you see your first citrus groves, grazing horses, herds of cattle. We were driving only an hour north, but it’s […]

Closed

I love shops after they close, the way they look through their windows. They become dioramas, absent of human buzz and burn, or stage sets after the curtain drops, or dollhouses, emptied of their dolls. Without people there, the blouses take our shape, our presence. Suggesting more, like Anne Francis in her episode of the […]

This Sunday, inside

I’m inside all this weekend, working on a commission. I work here all week too, so Sunday is usually about leaving, about running around, finding stuff, looking for places to look at, being with people. This is Sunday afternoon for Oliver and Solomon. It’s all about long sleeps, soft sofas, tolerating your frenemy. You know, […]