What Lies Beyond
I spent twenty minutes this morning staring at the locked gate of the small park near my apartment. It is a simple chain-link thing, rusted at the hinges, meant to keep people out until the groundskeeper arrives. I had my keys in my hand, ready…
The Empty Chair at Dinner
There is a specific silence that settles over a table when the person who always insisted on the extra pinch of salt is no longer there to reach for it. It is not a quiet room; the clatter of silverware and the murmur of conversation continue,…
The Geography of Exclusion
We often mistake the absence of people for the presence of peace. We look at a landscape stripped of human clutter and call it a sanctuary, a paradise, an untouched wilderness. But in the study of human geography, there is no such thing as…