Leaving Las Vegas you might, like us, miss the turnoff sign for Seven Magic Mountains. But you can’t miss seeing them—ginormous, 30-35-foot-tall neon-painted totems towering
Vancouver, alas, subscribes to what I call “Hello Kitty” street art. Birds, bees, butterflies, sanctioned mural festival art that, for the most part, doesn’t challenge
Because my mother-in-law and I shared the same initials, sometime in the last decade I started addressing emails to her as GS1, signing off as
A foodie’s worst nightmare descended upon me. Covid, or one of its bad-ass alphanumeric sub-variant cousins, stole my appetite. However, these viruses lacked the virility
The stave church of Borgund is a paradox. Tarred all-black, dark as a smokehouse, roof tiles overlapping like scales on a mythological dragon, its aura
It was 11:40 and the line was already snaking around the corner. This was lucky for the four of us: there’s no sign above the
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