When I think about a funny story, I can’t help but think of dogs. They’re a common theme because of how close we become. Some of my favorite stories have to do with dogs — short stories by Thomas Mann and Anton Chekhov. When I was a kid I always wanted a pet. Who didn’t, the idea of having some obscure animal as a pet. I loved the idea and my stepmom Eileen always backed me. I had ’em. I had a run with two tortoises, but they were kinda boring after a while. I wanted to love them. I…

THE NIGHT SKY FADED from orange into purple, into blue, into darkness. The infinitesimal stars began to shine; the moon illuminated our steps along the edge of the cliff. After a weekend with some of my closest friends, it was down to just the two of us — brothers by choice.

We walked by others staring out to sea, taking in the cold evening under the shimmering stars. We walked like shadows, floating along. There’s something mystifying about the night; to walk under the light of the moon feels ancient — the norms of the day have faded.

I looked…

Where does one life end and another life begin?
The people whom we meet, connecting not by word of mouth;
But a bridge between two hearts,
Turn us into more than kin.

The thoughts that keep me up,
Not new;
But often it feels like there’s nothing I can do;
But just be, and do me, gaze upon the swaying tree,
To see, that the real me, is just as much as you,
You, the feeling of the gentle breeze;
Me, the cosmos of a stone.

Still, these complexities, become too much to bear, See the smile on my face…

It’s a night as beautiful as any I’ve experienced in a long time. I stand on the dusky beach and watch the pink clouds float across the face of the crescent moon.

The receding water leaves a reflective mirror on the sand that I look into and see a distorted version of myself. I bear witness to the furthest point that wave will ever reach, the crescendo of its existence. I hope the wave was happy.

Why am I still wearing headphones? I ask myself. Or is it me that asks? There goes the mind again doing what it does…

It’s the time of day when you could see a crisp outline of your breath against the darkening purple sky every time you speak.

Dusk in Berlin.

I’m on my way to meet a few friends of mine in Kreuzberg, a borough known for its eccentric qualities. I feel a light burning inside me as I briskly walk along the canal that runs through the neighborhood. This light gives me confidence.

The light makes me feel significant, although I’m walking alone.

A long walk can cure most things. They make these magnificent cities seem small and personal, where no corner…

At dusk, I look outside the window and notice the pink clouds floating by in the darkening sky. It’s been a challenging day, one of those when the big questions feel more daunting than inspiring.

What am I really doing this for, any of it? How am I connecting with not just the work, but the way I’m living my life? I head outside to ruminate on the thoughts in my head, the ones that won’t seem to unravel.

As I walk the usual route of my neighborhood I come across a dirt path I haven’t seen before even though…

I had no intention of sleeping in. I shuffled around my wooden, dimly lit cubby that had just enough space for a mattress and my small bag.

It was my first morning in Tokyo, Japan, a country I’d dreamed of visiting ever since I was a kid and began to feel an intrinsic connection to the subtle Japanese aesthetic and way of life. It has only burned brighter the older I get.

The shared hostel room had about ten of us, each confined to our bed behind a small curtain. It was 6 am; I had to get out.

I…

I feel drawn to observing the patterns of nature because all I have to do is watch. Something extraordinary is taking place when the world churns and breathes, something archaic and unexplainable.

The action can be expressed, but the emotion nature evokes is sometimes impossible to put into words. There’s a beauty in that inability to capture the human feeling. That’s the thing about art; it’s the human’s attempt at portraying something we all experience yet find it hard to say.

Where words won’t do, perhaps a color, or a line, or a photograph, or a chord, will. The viewer…