I spent a year living and working in Spain, and I can’t say I left there deeply in love with the country. Maybe its shoe stores, but definitely not its cuisine—and most definitely not its affinity for torturing and killing bulls.
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From the monthly archives:
July 2010
One year after Sherry came hurtling through my house, obliterating my couch, mincing my speaker cords, and pooping two feet up the wall, she is now the picture of peaceful serenity. Mission accomplished.
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On choosing a child-free life… “One of the hardest things to look at in this life is the lives we didn’t lead, the path not taken, potential left unfulfilled.”
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Sometimes, the best cure for falling out of love with a city is to take pictures of it.
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