This Saturday, the 2013 hurricane season will end—and with it, possibly, New York City’s final hurricane-less year.
Going on a five-day cleanse—subsisting on a diet of shots, smoothies, very few actual foods, and no caffeine—leads to visions of apocalypse. From 2013, a quest to find the seven billionth child on Earth.
Driving from Lebanon toward Syria, across the Saudi Arabian desert to Dammam, in a taxi among the refugees of Beirut—quickly becomes the Wild West.
Much to the chagrin of his former 25-year-old self, a man in his forties—with no singing experience outside the shower—joins the village chorus. Terror, learning, and intense joy, all while making Brian Eno proud.
Don’t let the flying matzoh balls confuse you. A visit from a dead parent is serious business—a second chance for love, and for forgiveness.
A man follows his grandparents’ trek to Morocco—where the Alaouite Dynasty has ruled since 1666—to search for so-called “sacred music” amid a feedback loop of riots, arrests, and the promise of miracles.
Should the cicadas arrive just in time for your wedding—biblical, unexpected, and yet, routine as clockwork—there’s nothing to do but carry on with the ceremony. Come hell or, in fact, high water.
Seeking respite from a life lived in war zones—too many rebel factions, too many gunshots, too many backfiring motorcycles that sounded like gunshots—a family discovers temporary shelter in the outer edges of New York City. And then, the deluge.
From his new solo show in the United States, black-and-white selections from Takuma Nakahira’s “Circulation: Date, Place, Events,” plus a reprint of his 1973 essay, “Looking at the City or the Look From the City.”
The internet is an unrelenting enabler of our flaws and an unforgiving archive of them—so should you google your new love interest, or hold off? And what if they google you first?
The world of the myope is often a nicer place—faces lack wrinkles, and trees seem to be painted by Monet. Then, during a visit to Moscow, a black spot appears.
An unexpected pregnancy, tuna sandwiches consumed in darkness, and woman after woman of a certain age living by the ocean—eventually, all connections make sense when it comes to prescient grandparents.