I was standing at the threshold of my apartment in Mumbai, bags packed for a three-month trek through the Karakoram,…

I was sitting in a glass-walled conference room in downtown Manhattan, the kind where the air feels too thin and…

I found myself staring at the spinning wheel of a software update last Tuesday, holding my breath and crossing my…

I used to think my grandmother was just being difficult when she’d pull me back from the front door, her…

I used to scoff at food superstitions, rolling my eyes at spilled salt or not cutting pasta. Oh, the youthful…

I remember scoffing. Really, truly scoffing. It was a crisp autumn day, the kind where the air smells like damp…

I remember sitting on my porch, the humid air thick and heavy, a low hum of distant traffic the only…

I remember sitting on my grandma’s porch, the air thick and heavy, a strange quiet descending upon the cicadas. She’d…

I remember sitting on a dusty stoop in a small village outside Kumasi, Ghana, the scent of woodsmoke and damp…

I remember standing there, heart pounding, the faint scent of rain still clinging to the morning air just hours before…