She Said the Anniversary Was “Only for Family” — So I Stopped Paying and Flew to Paris Instead

on a clear October morning. My apartment smelled like absence — that particular quality of a space that has been empty and is now, incrementally, returning to itself.

I sat down at my desk and looked at the work I’d made in Paris, sixty-odd images spread across my screen, each one evidence of what happened when I pointed my attention somewhere useful.continue reading …