The tourists are back in town. Lots of Germans with face masks. I suppose we’re all beginning to venture out into the world again, just a bit closer to home. Anja and I are considering taking the ferry to Norway. Apparently you can camp virtually anywhere in that country, as long as you “leave it cleaner than you found it” and …

“Do you want this problem to get smaller or bigger?”

“I still love you, but I’ll be doing it from behind this line.”

“Blaue Augen sind besser als braune Augen” (“Blue eyes are better than brown eyes”, 10-year-old brown-eyed German boy to his blue-eyes brother at the Okura Hotel breakfast bar)

I never get much reading done unless I’m sleeping elsewhere. Most often, I associate sleeping elsewhere with having time off, and having time off means I’m away from a computer screen. This frees up time for reading.

Anja had booked a suite for my birthday at Okura, and six months after I turn 33, Covid measures are finally so mild that …

I am nostalgic about the way the Web used to be. I miss the handcrafted blogs that I used to visit, and the intimate windows they gave me into the lives of strangers.

I miss that I knew all the domain names by heart. It is a phantom pain of sorts; an unrest in the tip of my fingers reminding me I no longer need to make series of key combinations to …

This was written as part of Vine & Fig’s Sunday Scripture reflection project.

When Jesus sent out his Twelve, He told them: “Whatever place does not welcome you or listen to you, leave there and shake the dust off your feet in testimony against them.” If you’re not welcomed, not listened to, quietly withdraw. Don’t make a …

Her Summer break started yesterday, and as always it is an event. I am so excited about getting everything right that I mostly present as a frantic killjoy. Jeopardy makes everything better.

I start today with my usual bike route past the bakeries. Niemeijer for pain au choc and canelés, followed by tiger buns and krentenbollen at …

The other day, as I was speaking about a group of queer Black designers of which I’m a part, a White lesbian asked me: “when does a group exist just so a bunch of outcasts can commiserate about their shared otherness? I mean, could someone like me join?”

“Great questions,” I said, “my response is identical to …