Word: sidewalks
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Oliveira’s lover La Maga enters like a light breeze: her intuitive connections to the things around her serve as a foil for the often laughably cerebral shoptalk of the others. “She picked up a leaf from the edge of the sidewalk and spoke to it for a while, moved it along the palm of her hand, put it rightside up and upside down, stroked it, and finally she took off the leafy part and left the veins exposed, a delicate green ghost was reflected against her skin,” writes Cort?...
...being the first good-size municipality in the U.S. to give up on its only daily newspaper. A2, as the town is known, is more or less the beauty queen of Michigan: pretty, confident and seemingly immune to the problems of her peers. It still has a downtown with sidewalk cafs and quirky local stores. Its biggest employers are two universities and two hospitals, and it has weathered the recession better than most of the rest of the state. Nearly half its residents have graduate degrees. How could the paper die in a place like this? (See 10 ways...
...04am: More than ready for the furry comforter awaiting us at the hotel, I find myself instead dozing off on a sidewalk curb. One of our friends has just gotten a flat tire and a drunken five-man team is attempting to fix it. Even the pack of cigarettes I ingested over the past few hours isn't enough to keep me awake through this comedy...
Soon enough, I became a regular customer. I’ve had a few drivers who see the sidewalk as an extension of the street and some who find the speed limit impossibly slow, but I’ve yet to meet the lewd thief I was so sternly warned about. Though I’m sure he exists, over two months I’ve met many more Yoweris, young and earnest men from up country, just trying to make a living in the city, and perhaps cutting a few corners in the process...
...teaches the skill to college students on Murano, the Venetian island renowned for the craft. I ask the man whether he lives here. He smirks and responds, half in jest, “No one lives on Murano.” Leaving him, I walk along the boardwalk-turned-sidewalk, watching as the never-ending line of shops begins to close. It’s a wonder that they all stay in business, as each is the same as the next, full of cheap glass trinkets: small clowns, a little perfume bottle (the majority of them are not actually Murano...