Their parents are old and frail. Their jobs are varied and demanding. Their collective geo-positions at any given time are a sparse matrix draped over a space the size of the planet. Their ongoing, mutually-exclusive elder-care opt-out game – that’s what I’d call it – has yielded no nash equilibrium
Archives
Delivery
Whenever the doorbell rings, it’s Chrissy who shuffles to the door. She moves through the small apartment, ironing out her green tee with weathered hands, brushing cookie crumbs from there onto her navy blue jog pants. She lifts her palm to the access pad and it lights up. You can
Headcase
The lift makes a clanging sound and halts. After a worrying pause the doors bid farewell to each other noisily and begrudgingly. She looks down, finding that the 17th floor isn’t quite flush with, but gets out anyway. She’s deposited herself into a corridor that tunnels away in both directions. There’s
Textuality
It’s the backbone of evolution itself, isn’t it? The thing off of which it all hangs: the inability to just rip out the guts and make everything anew, in the image of better thought-out things. For most intents and purposes, slates are never, ever wiped clean. But every once in a