Posts Tagged ‘Wrought Iron’

In which The Gay Recluse freezes to death. It goes without saying that nothing is black and white. But at the moment it feels like nothing is gray, either. It’s more like there are layers of perception, some of which are made of iron, and some of which will melt away.


In which The Gay Recluse remembers an old obsession with the color red. Years ago, we went through a phase when we wore only red shirts. But here’s the thing: you couldn’t find any good ones that were new, so we were required to scour used-clothing shops all over the country in a mostly vain […]


In which The Gay Recluse is small. Time/Location of Pictures: 35th Street between Madison and Fifth Avenue, some night last week. It’s not exactly a revelation to say that the city is filled with infinite borders, many of which are strictly maintained. But there’s something comforting in the utility of a nicely designed fence. As […]


In which The Gay Recluse contemplates an old friend. Date of Picture: April 24, 2008 Location: Our garden in Washington Heights. Even as a child in Pittsburgh, we loved this table. All winter it would sit out on the porch as we stared longingly at it. Every May, when it was finally warm enough (this […]


We sweep the walk one last time, gathering up the birch leaves — a deep yellow — and the beech leaves — a magnificent, burned orange — before tossing all of them over the wall into the vacant lot next door. The wrought-iron table and chairs we place under a tarp; we bring the candles […]



Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.