The view from my desk.
An essay from the archives.
I originally published this essay on June 16, 2022.
Above my desk, there is a photo.
It's a black and white image of my friend Ashleigh, taken when we were maybe 15 or 16. On the day it was taken, we had gone to a park after school, cameras in tow, putting flowers in our hair and wasting time taking photos of each other. It was winter in Florida, and the weather was perfect. I think we might have gotten Chinese food and eaten it in the middle of a little league soccer field at my insistence because — I vividly remember this part — I thought it seemed like something a teenager in a romantic comedy or sitcom would do. Or maybe that was another, similar time. There were a lot of days like this. It's how my friends and I spent our time.
We'd find an excuse to document pretty much anything, convinced that an abandoned lot or train tracks or well-manicured suburban park could be cool if we tried hard enough or wore the right outfit. For some, there may have been dating and parties, but for …