Prose by Rick Bass
Paintings by Elizabeth Hughes Bass
It wasn’t like I put those old things—rocks, football, hunting—away in a box or closet or attic or basement somewhere, but instead more as if I set them down on a beach and got into a small boat with these three other people and pushed out into a harbor, mid-morning on a fine day—as if all that had come before had been a dream—and then rowing, further and farther, with the scent of things changing the more we got out toward the open water, and the sound of waves as they lapped against the sides of the boat sounding different—the boat’s buoyancy, and indeed, our own, different, farther from that harbor. The air, the quality of the light, becoming different too.
By Beth Baker
“What part of town did we live in?” I ask, cradling my cell phone against my shoulder as my mouse wanders along the wide highways transecting the city. My Dad and I recently discovered Google Earth as a means of taking a virtual walk down memory lane together. The streets seem so innocuous on the computer screen, though daily news reports suggest otherwise.
Prose by Claudia Kousoulas
Photography by George Kousoulas
Parking garages are among the most unloved and unobserved structures in architecture. They keep our environments functioning and our lives moving, but we don’t expect them to deliver joy or enlightenment. In Miami Beach, however, architects have used light to highlight space, surface, and movement in these utilitarian spaces, creating the very best kind of architecture—functional and ennobling.