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The Nowhere Walks
Small feet set forth on little journeys without destinations. My childhood friends and I would walk for hours, talking and sharing.

Entrances to our lives, to our memories, to places far behind us—and some far off in a future that is hard to imagine.

Looking back on the life of my father a year after his passing.

A manic machine that drives me forward, but also grinds my soul into its cogs.

But what if it is all garbage? A counterpoint to “Garbage In, Garbage Out,” arguing against the blind reliance on AI.

Like early ’90s Aerosmith, I was ready to make my return to the real world when I was finally allowed to go back to a public school.