Salarymen

Crisp white dress shirts dot the train car like pimples. Matte ties in dark neutrals coordinate with suit pants. Then, at the feet, a surprise: gorgeous and expensive Italian leather shoes. The sun has set over Roppongi; the Salarymen are going home. The one across...

We Speak Australian

The ten-seater van lurched right as the driver zoomed around yet another hairpin turn. I looked out the window, over the edge of a cliff, and silently praised my decision to sit near the front of the van instead of the back. I was mildly carsick here; I’d be throwing...

Feels Like Home

Bumper to bumper traffic. Horns blasting all around. The slow crawl of the left turn lane. Out the window, one young man shuffles along with Bluetooth headphones, bopping his head to the beat and playing air drums with tattooed arms. Next to him, an older man in a...

Snapshots

My impressions of the world come in snapshots. People, places, even smells are all snippets of time captured in stills. It’s a never-ending roll of Kodachrome spiraling through my brain. The more snapshots I collect of a subject, the more I feel I have a...

Inauthentic

Olive Garden came to my hometown when I was about eight years old. I begged my parents for weeks to take me there. My family dressed up for a nice dinner out and happily waited twenty-five minutes for a table along with a dozen other Wisconsonite families overjoyed at...